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POEMS 



MRS. FRANCES Bf M9 BROTHERSON 



I'UlilJSHEI) HY HkR DaIGHTERS 



1 880 






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t)^V 



Entered according to an Act of Congress in the year 1880, by 

Mrs. L. B. Tyng and Mrs. M. B. Reynolds 
in the ofRce of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 




THE BELOVED 



WHETHER ON EARTH OR IN HEAVEN. 



Fn.LED WITH A TONE — Oh, NOT FOR DEATHLESS KaME, 
But a SWEET, HAUNTING MURMUR OF MY NAME, 

Where it would rest." 



PREFACE. 



As it had long been the purpose of our dear mother to collect 
these poems in a volume for the sake of those who loved her, 
and as since her death many requests have come to us that this 
should still be done, we offer this volume to her friends and to 
the public. We have made no attempt to arrange the poems in 
order of writing, or to classify them. We have omitted some of 
a local and periodical interest, because of their length, but it has 
been our intention to publish all of her shortest poems, and we 
have tried faithfully to collect them all. It is a matter of real 
sorrow to us that the work could not be done by her own loving 
hands and under her careful supervision, but as this could not 
be, we have tried, as well as was in our power, to <lo it in her 
dear stead. We feel very sure of the indulgence of our friends 
in their judgment of our work, and trust that this memorial of 
her may find its way into the homes of all who loved her, and 
are glad to remember " her work and labor of love " while yet 

among us. 

Lucie Brothersox Tyng. 

Martha Brotherson Reynolds. 
Peoria, Dec. 7, 18S0. 



CONTENTS 



The Hymn of the Pilgrims. 

The Snow, .... 

Hymn — Belief ontaine Cemetery, 

The Beautiful, 

The Sunset Strain, 

The Two Cities, . 

Love's Last Good-Night, 

Lines, .... 

Wishes, 

Thought, 

Annie Tyng, 

Spring Time, 

My Jewels, . 

Laurel Hill Cemetery, 

Love On, 

To Ada Huston Hayes, 

The Twain, 

Love's Messenger, 

Lines, . . . • 

Lines to Judith L. Bostwick, 

Thoughts at Twilight, 

Th(> Mother's Grave, . 



3 
6 

9 
10 
13 
16 
18 
21 
24 
26 
31 
34 
37 
39 
42 
44 
47 
50 
53 
55 
58 
60 



CONTENTS. 



The Vacant Cradle, 

Lines to Nellie M. R, 

Household Blossoms, 

Judea, 

The Twin Brothers, 

A Heart's Thanksgiving, 

To a Bereaved One, 

Memories of One Beloved, 

The Loved and Lost, . 

A Welcome, 

Class Song, 

The Convict's Mother, 

A Valentine, 

Lines — to Mrs. Amanda Simerel 

A Memorj', 

Gone Before, . . . 

I Cannot Think Thee Dead, 

The Dying Year, 

To the New Year, 

Lines, .... 

The Little Grave, 

The Italian Boy, 

The Lamb of the Fold, 

The Olden Strain, 

The Death of Moses, 

Lines— St. Luke's Hospital, New 

The Little AVhite Coffin, 

The Fading Year, 

The Infidel's Daughter, 

Our Darling, 

Absent, 

Forgiveness, 

Love's Wealth, 



Grimes. 



York 



PAGE. 

63 
66 
68 
72 
75 
79 
82 
85 
88 
91 
93 
95 
99 

101 

104 

105 

109 

112 

115 

117 

119 

121 

124 

129 

]32 

136 

140 

144 ■ 

149 

153 
■155 

157 

160 



CONTENTS. 



Reply to the "Tliree Gifts," 

My Ohio Home, 

Henry Clay, 

The Evening Before Marriage, 

Lines — to Mrs. E. D. Harilin, 

Ruth to Naomi, 

Tlie 8hunamite's Rejjly, 

Lines — Upon the Departure of Friends for 

Sul)mission, 

Reunion of ITtli Illinois Volunteers, 

Shall the Union be Severed' 

Pray, .... 

Hymn for Easter, 

The Prayer of the Soldier's Wife, 

Hail to the Heroes, 

Better than our Fears, 

Easter Hymn, 

Memorial Day, May 30, 1871, 

Monday ]\Iorning, 

A Meed of Praise, 

To Miss Katie E. McKenzie, 

Hast Thou Forgotten? 

The Baptism, 

What Hath the Future? 

The Old and New Year, 

Let Me Kiss Him for His Mother, 

Dying, 

Our Darling's Birthday, 

The Prayer of King Solomon, 

A Response to the Call for 600,000 Men, 

Our Father's Orave, 

Fallen on the Field of Battle, 

Not Dead, .... 



Palestine, 



CONTENTS. 










PAGE. 


March 4th, 1865, . . . . . . . . . 262 


The Soldiers' Monument, 










264 


The Widow's Son, 










266 


Missing, . . . . 










271 


Charles Dickens, 










274 


The Triumph of Love, 










278 


My Father's Birthday, 










281 


The Eed Ribbon, .... 










284 


One Year in Heaven, 










286 


All Things Praise Him, 










290 


Hope, 










293 


The Poor Ye Have Always With You 


, 








297 


The Reward of Faith, 










300 


Twenty-Third Psalm, . 










304 


To Mary Gibson Griswold, 










306 


She Hath Passed Away, 










308 


Nevermore, . 










311 


The Inner World, 










313 


Our Soldiers, .... 










316 


Memorial Day, May 30th, 1879, . 










319 


On the Hillside, .... 










325 


An Appeal for the Letter Carriers, 










328 


Christmas Carol, .... 










330 


Lines — to Hon. John McReynolds, 










333 


In the Hospital, .... 










335 


The Marriage Bell, 










338 


Our Lord and Saviour, 










341 


Norman and Philip Bourland, 










345 


Death at Sea, .... 










348 


Springdale Cemetery, . 










353 


Letters of the Dead, 










355 


The Centennial Year, 










858 


Spring Violets, .... 










368 



CONTENTS. 



Lines — to May Riggs Tyng, 

Lines — to Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Reynolds, 

A Christmas Rejoicing, 



PAGE. 

371 
375 
380 



In Memoriam- 



Philip M. Brotlicrson, 








387 


Annis P. Baldwin, . 








390 


Mrs. H. G. Weston, 








392 


Mrs. H. P. Bennett, 








395 


The Household Darling, 








399 


Mrs. Wm. Bennett, 








401 


Rudolphus Rouse Winchell, 








405 


Mrs. N. B. Hotchkiss, 








407 


Mrs. Elizabeth Wilson, 








411 


Mrs. A. F. Curtenius, 








414 


Clara Estella Coppel, 








417 


3&y P. Hotchkiss, 








419 


Mrs. Emily D. Aiken, 








423 


Mrs. Martha R. Hotchkiss, 








424 


Charlie C. Merriman, 








428 


Mary Ruth Chase, 








431 


Mrs. E. M. Hancock, 








434 


Rev. Dudley A. Tyng, 








437 


Mrs. Richard Gregg, 








441 


Frank Brotherson Tyng, 








447 


Frank Brotherson Tyng, 








450 


Compensation, 








453 


Frank Brotherson Tyng, 








456 


Hon. H. H. Leavitt, 








458 


Abraham Lincoln, . 








461 


Little Caro, 








465 


Annie Grisvvold Tyng, 








470 



CONTENTS. 










PAGE. 


Col. Lucien H. Kerr, 474 


Little Mattie, .... 








478 


The Vacant Home, 








482 


Delle Mason Dowdall, 








487 


Grace Fletcher Dow, 








490 


Jessie A. Belcher, 








493 


Lines — to Mr. and Mrs. Dunlap, 








498 


Mrs. George W. Morgan, 








501 


The Household Darling, 








505 


A Flower, .... 








508 


Fred W. Sloan, 








510 


Little May Tyng, . 








514 



POEMS 



THE HYMN OF THE PILGRIMS. 



It rose amid the forest aisles, 

'T was borne upon the breeze, 
That high, free anthem ! blending deep 

With nature's harmonies. 
It circled round the great white throne, 

A tribute to the Power, 
Whose hand had steered their gallant bark 

In danger's darkest hour. 



It rose amid the forest aisles, 

It floated to the sky, 
The full heart's melody — whose tones 

Were never born, to die. 
And tears bedewed full many a cheek, 

While joy lit up the eye. 
As thus, with lips of praise, they might 

A tyrant power defy. 



THE HYMN OF THE PILGRIMS. 

Soul spake to soul — one mystic band, 

In gentle fetters bound ; 
As thus they worshipped fearlessly 

And made it holy ground. 
And bending low the reverent knee, 

Arose the tones of prayer, 
Thanks for a sleepless watch and ward, 

A Father's kindly care. 



The memories of their father-land, 

The charms of native shore, 
Forsaken hearth-stones, wonted paths 

That know their steps no more — 
Were naught to the one glorious thought 

Within each noble soul, 
That they were free to worship God, 

Safe from man's stern control. 



Free ! free ! how echoed forth those words 

Amid the leafy shade. 
Where many a whispering forest tree 

Melodious murmurs made. 
They echoed by the singing stream, 

Old ocean caught the sound, 
And chanted forth from deepest caves, 

Its harmonies profound. 



rilE IIYMX OF THE I'llJlRTMS. 

The Pilgrim's hymn ! It soundeth still 

On shore and surging sea ; 
The world doth sing its blessedness, 

A mighty minstrelsy ! 
On desert sands, in ice bound climes, 

Is heard its echoed tone, 
In the calm joyful ness and peace 

The faithful heart hath known. 



When failing footste]).s wander down 

Where death's dark waters glide, 
It sounds above the rolling wave, 

Above the stormy tide. 
It cheers the spirit through the vale. 

When earthly scenes grow dim, 
And "midst the shadows gathering there 

Is heard the Pilgrim's Hvmn. 



Undying, still its echoes float 

Up to the pearly gate, 
Where ransomed souls pass gently in. 

And crowns no longer wait. 
Amid the glittering, countless ranks, 

Evangels — cherubim — 
The music of the white-robed throng 

Is still the Pilgrim's Hvmn. 



THE SNOW. 



Softly, and pure as an angel's wing, 
Thou floatest to earth, oh ! beautiful thing; 
Seeming to come from the azure bowers 
With jewelled robes for this world of ours ; 
On the mountain high, in the valley low, 
Is hailed thy coming, white sheeny snow — 
A boon to gladden the hearts of all, 
A wreath for the winter's festival. 



The voice of childhood rings gaily out, 
The joyous call, and the happy shout; 
Light kindleth up in unshadowed eyes, 
Joy waketh mirthful and fond replies ; 
The boyish feet — how they bound away! 
Roaming in gladness the livelong day. 
As though never a sorrow could find a part 
In the new found joy of each happy heart. 



THE SNOW. 

And I sit and think, as the snow-flakes fall, 
Of one who sleeps 'neath their pure white pall, 
A graceful form — from our vision hid — 
A fair face — under the coffin lid ; 
I hear no tones like his pleasant voice. 
No words like his make my heart rejoice, 
And a requiem strain floats around life's w^ay, 
For the child whose presence has passed away. 



In the vanished year, when the white snow fell, 
He shouted with gladness his joy to tell, 
That voice of sweetness, so clear and fair. 
We heard its music, now here, now there; 
And over the ice-bound and snow-clad street, 
Rang the tireless tread of those little feet. 
Quiet their echoes — they faded away 
From their wonted pathway one winter's day. 



I sit and think how the years will go. 
Blest by the fall of the beautiful snow — 
That greetings shall echo from young, red lips, 
While his shall be sealed amid Death's eclipse; 
I shall hear the mirth of each boyish band, 
And turn to think of his folded hand, 
And the sunshine streaming from yonder sky 
Shall waken thoughts of his slumbering eye. 



THE SNOW. 

Oh! gentle snow — with thy white wing come, 
Decking with beauty his lowly home, 
Fold thy pure arm o'er his pulseless breast, 
Gem with thy jewels his quiet rest ; 
Though his pure spirit hath passed away 
To the radiant light of unshadowed day, 
Remembering the child that hath loved thee so. 
Crown his pale slumbers, oh, beautiful snow ! 



HYMN. 

Suiif;- lit the Consecration of Bellefontaine Cemetery, St. Louis, Missouri. 

Our Father ! with a holy trust 

And faith, we eomc before thee now ; 

Look down upon this hallowed dust, 
As low before thy Throne we bow. 

Wilt thou not grant that we may deem 
The grave an entrance to the sky ; 

A prelude to a long bright dream, 
And glories hid from mortal eye? 

A passage to that radiant shore, 

Where golden harps give back such notes 

As seraphs only number o'er. 

And bliss in sweetest measure floats ? 

And as we lay each cherished one 
To rest, amid this shade and bloom, 

Father! be life for them begun, — 
A deathless life beyond the tomb. 



THE BEAUTIFUL. 



"Whose dwelling is the light of setting sun,— and the deep ocean,— and the 
living air,— and the blue skj',— and the mind of man." 



"Let there be light" — through the vast realm of Heaven, 
That mighty tone thrilled on the angel band ; 
While a new life seemed to each seraph given, 
An added radiance filled that Eden land. 

As our fair world awoke in pristine glory, 
Amid the rosy rays that gleamed around, 

Telling, in speaking silence, the glad story 
Of the rich splendor that Creation crowned. 

Floating so gently from the cloudless azure, 
An angel presence came on glittering wing. 
To be a dweller 'mid earth's new-found brightness, 
And to its bowers a blessedness to bring. 

It left its impress on each starry trembler. 
That sheds its golden glory from on high. 

And bade them ever keep untiring vigils, 
With the calm watching of an angel's eye. 



THE BEAUTIFUL. 11 



It hath a voice throughout the realm of Nature, 
We find its footprints through the forest aisles, 

Where the unfolding of its shining pinion 
Awakes a wreath of sunshine and of smiles. 



O'er the wide world we mark its fairy wandering, 
By the blue sea it keeps a wonted place, 

No towering mountain, not a vale so lowly, 
But of the angel presence bears a trace. 



Beside the violet's home it loves to linger, 
AVithin the lily's bell and rose's blush, 

Waking, like echoes from a fairy finger. 

The fountain's flow and rippling water's gush. 



And when I gaze upon each spray and leaflet. 
Waving so gently on the perfumed air, 

I look so fondly for the passing presence, 
For well I know the angel hath been there. 



It bringeth to the heart full many a blessing. 
We keep its impress on beloved tones, 

And every cherished smile it wreaths with fondness. 
Love's lighted glance its sacred influence owns. 



12 THE BEAUTIFUL. 

It hath a joy for sorrow's darkest moment, 
And gentle soothings for grief's sombre hour, 

Unto the hopeless heart it comes with visions, — 
That brighter life with strange and holy power. 

It crowneth the beloved with a glory 

More regal far than that of lip and brow, 

The soul's ex]3ression, and the spirit gleaming, 
Awake our worship, and we fondly bow. 

A shining link to draw the soul to Heaven, 
A foretaste of that world of purest bliss, 

That bids us wonder what must be its glory. 
When such revealings come to us in this. 

Thrice happy they! — around whose daily pathway 
The Beautiful doth come on angel wing. 

And sweeping o'er the spirit's hidden treasure. 
Calls from its depths a gentle echoing, — 

Echoes which sound through life, and sweetly soothe 
Its strange unrest with murmurs of delight, 

Until they blend with the grand minstrelsy. 

Whose strains, immortal, fill the world of light. 



THE SUNSET STB A IN. 



"When the sun gilds with its last mys the everlasfing snow on the high cliffs 
01' the Alps, the shepherd who has built his litilo chalet highest on the dizzy- 
crags blows a shrill blast, and repeats through his horn ' Praised be ihc Lord.' 
The hunters who dwell around utter it again, and it is caught up and prolonged 
by the valleys below, while all who hear it i)ause in awe."— Travels in Europe. 



When winter rears its palace on the heights 

Where Alpine snows in proud defiance rest, 
In that calm hour when day doth seek repose, 

And sunset's glow is lingering in the west, — 
" Praised be the Lord " resoundeth from those cliffs, 

While hill, and vale, and rock, give back the notes 
That in one glorious voice ascend on high. 

And up to Heaven as sweetest incense floats. 

When fairy Spring hath come with pleasant smile. 

Treading with gentle feet each wintry height ; 
When icy bands relent and melt away 

Beneath the glances of her eye of light; 
Then high and clear, that strain of glorious praise 

Swells out — and from the grateful heart is heard 
"Praised be the Lord" — while with upspringing life, 

All nature echoes back each blessed word. 



14 THE SUNSET STRAIN. 

When summer strews its beauty o'er those hills, 

Basking in sunshine 'neath the radiant skies, 
When clinging vines with ripened fruit are filled, 

Crowning their home with green as they arise ; 
Amid the undimmed beauty that doth clothe 

The hill and vale, — still at day's close is heard 
From the high chalet on the towering cliffs, 

That worship tone, whose echoes Praise the Lord. 



At that calm hour the shepherd hears the sound, — 

Enfolded are his lambs in pastures fair — 
His heart re-echoes every welcome word, 

And now his murmured praise is on the air. 
The weary hunter in his homeward walk, 

Flings down the chamois when that strain is heard, 
And with his knee upon the fragrant turf. 

Joins in the jubilant, "Praised be the Lord." 



Oh, Alpine horn — with praise perpetual thou, 

I would my heart might echo back thy notes, 
Ascending to the Great White Throne on high. 

To mingle with the praise that round it floats. 
I would that as each day doth pass away. 

And sunset flings its banner o'er the sky, 
My voice might in a blessed tribute rise. 

To Him, who reigns the Lord of all, on high. 



THE SUNSET STRAIN. 16 

When Winter's icy footsteps draweth near, 

Shrouding the beauty of the Autumn's hours; 
When coraeth Spring, with fairy hues of green ; 

When Cometh Summer, with its golden hours ; 
When glows the rose, with angel-painted hues ; 

When leafy spray is bent by bee and bird ; 
When Autumn comes with treasures rich and rare. 

Be this my heart hymn — thus my voice be heard. 

In joy and gladness — in dark sorrow's hour, — 

Amid the sunshine and the deepest shade, — 
In the fair hour of bright prosperity — 

And when a chastening hand is on me laid — 
When faint and feeble — when death cometh near, — 

When loving voices are no longer heard — 
Through the dark valley — at the golden gate — 

My spirit's song shall be "Praised be the Lord." 



THE TWO CITIES. 



Not far apart they lie — these cities twain, — 

O'er each the cheerful sunshine brightly streams, 

And beauty, like a spirit, haunts their paths, 
Such as hath come to me in pleasant dreams. 

Protectingly the azure bends o'er one, 

The other sleeps beneath the same blue sky. 

And there are homes in each, where whispering leaves 
Respond to gentle zephyrs wandering by. 

One echoes back the sound of daily toil, 
The step of commerce wanders through its bound. 

And joyous mirth, and friendship's kindly tone 
Throughout its pathways pleasantly resound. 

The other is all quiet and repose. 
No clashing sound floats on its summer air, 

No bounding footsteps, nor the busy hand, 
Nor calculating spirit, dwelleth there. 



THE TWO CITIES. 17 



In one I find the smiles my heart doth love, 

And hear the tones that thrill my spirits chords, 

And kindly hands there greet me, with a warmth 
That unto life its rarest bliss aiFords. 



Within the other I have vainly yearned 

For hut one smile, one welcome fond and true ; 

I found them not — for every voice was hushed. 
Each silent lip had breathed love's last adieu. 



In one my days speed tranquilly away, 

Crowned with rich mercies from my Father's hand ; 
Sunshine bedecks my pathway, and my brow 

By many a favoring breeze from Heaven is fanned. 



Some coming time, perchance not far away. 
Amid the other I shall find calm rest, 

And go, with silent heart and slumbering eye, 
A quiet sleeper — to the earth's green breast. 



Beyond the homes I would a city find. 

Not built with hands — where many mansions fair 
Reflect their radiance in Life's crystal stream, 

And stand, eternal as their Builder, there. 



LOVE'S LAST GOOD-NIGHT. 



Inscribed to the memory of an only and beloved son. 



Good night, my darling ! On thy brow 

Fond, loving kisses I have pressed, 
As when, in childhood's happy time, 

I watched above thy rosy rest. 
My hand hath smoothed the shining curls 

That rest around thy graceful head. 
So much like life — my stricken soul 

Owns not the truth that thou art dead. 



Good night, my darling ! My fond lips 

Have rested on each folded lid, — 
Forever from my longing sight 

Thine eyes' expressive light is hid. 
I cannot see the old glad smile 

That ever warmly welcomed me, — 
How shall I live without its light. 

Save on the shrine of memory. 



LOVE'S LAST GOOD NIGHT. 19 

Good night, my darling! Oh, how chill 

The pressure of thy cold, cold lips — 
Their wonted hue and warmth all gone, 

So pallid in life's sad eclipse. 
Countless the kisses they have left 

Upon my lips, and cheek, and brow ; 
Countless the loving, tender words, 

They breathed for me — no silent now. 



Good night, my darling! In my own 

I hold thy hand, all still and pale, 
That hand, whose kindness, warmth, and strength, 

Was with Death's dart of no avail. 
It seems to me but yesterday 

When first I knew its infant clasp; 
Oh! shall I never know on earth, 

Again its earnest, kindred grasp? 



Fain would I linger ever here 

Beside thy quiet coffin bed. 
Where thou, in young and manly grace, 

Wearest no look as of the dead. 
The peaceful smile — the placid light 

Gleaming from out thy features fair, 
Speak to me of thy spirit's bliss, 

That left its parting impress there. 



20 LOVE'S LAST GOOD NIGHT. 

Good night, my love ! A last good night- 

Thy cares and conflicts are all o'er, 
A Heavenly Father's guiding hand 

Hath led thee to a calm bright shore, 
Where thy young feet shall walk in joy, 

Amid its never-fading light, 
And thy dear lips may never know 

The anguish of love's last good night. 



And when for me some loying one 

Shall fold still hands above my breast, 
And lay me gently down to sleep 

My pleasant and unbroken rest, 
How gladly will I clasp thy hand 

And hail thee, on that angel shore, 
Where Life's glad morning shall be ours. 

And Death's sad night comes nevermore. 



LINES. 



Gently the Sabbath flung o'er the earth 

Its robe of cahn repose, 
And gave the heart its quietude, 

Its beauty to disclose. 
The peace of God — exceeding all, 

Seemed stilly hovering 'round. 
And dove-like o'er the spirit dwelt, 

Far in its depths profound. 



My willing steps sought gladly then 

The temple of the Lord, 
My soul was seeking its repast, 

The bounties of His word. 
The never-failing, deathless fount 

Of that unchanging love, 
Which fr9m the depths of earthly woe, 

Its mighty strength did prove. 



22 LINES. 



Sweetly the mellowed strain arose 

Of music's wondrous power, 
Like grateful incense to the Throne 

Where angel forms adore ; 
Oh, then mine eyes grew dim with tears, 

For thoughts came stealing by, 
Of thee, my Mother — whose fair home 

Was far beyond the sky. 



I thought of thee — who listened oft 

To that familiar strain ; 
I thought of thee — who never more, 

Might hear those tones again ; 
And sadly turned my tearful gaze 

Upon thy vacant seat. 
As though thy form, now lost to sight. 

My longing eyes would greet. 



Grief sadly swept my spirit's chords. 

And memory's fount was stirred, 
I thought upon thy -gentle smile, 

Each well remembered word, — 
The kindly greetings I had known 

From lips now pale and cold, 
Came thronging o'er my §addened heart. 

As fondly as of old. 



LINES. 23 

Soft o'er my soul a " still small voice," 

As angel's whisper low, 
Came on the wing of trusting faith, 

With plumage white as snow. 
And bade me know that thy high home 

Was free from earthly ill, 
And to the billowy waves of grief 

Spoke gently — " Peace, be still." 

It told me of the radiant bliss 

Of yonder white-robed throng, — 
It whispered of the glorious strain 

That made thy angel song, — 
It told of the dark valley passed, 

Of the high triumph tone 
That led thy feet o'er golden streets, 

To joys untold, unknown. 

Though gone from temples made with hands, 

Thou liv'st in mansions fair: 
Unto thy home our hearts go up, 

And fair would linger there. 
Oh ! may we, when life's hours are done. 

Like thee, in yon bright Heaven, 
Stand in its clear, unshadowed light, 

Unsinning and forgiven. 



WISHES. 



I wish I were a star — a quiet star, 

Throned gloriously in yonder azure sky, 
Shedding a flow of silvery light afar. 

Like the pure radiance of a seraph's eye. 
From that high home, beloved one, on thee 

Forever should my raptured vision rest, — 
And like a fairy dream each hour would be, 

That found me thus with thy deep preseace blest. 



I would I were a zephyr — balmy, light. 

Laden with breathings of the early spring, 
Fd bathe thy lips and cheeks with a delight 

Calm as the sweeping of an angel's wing; 
Amid the clusters of thy shining hair 

I'd linger, straying o'er that glorious brow, 
Whose dignity would grace a king to wear, 

When brave and loyal hearts before him bow. 



WISHES. 25 

I would I were a spirit bright and fair, 

To guard thee from life's ills with love's own might, 
Near thee for aye, at morn, or noonday's glare. 

And 'mid the hush of lone, mysterious night. 
Then ever at the holy twilight hour. 

My tireless wing should overshadow thee, 
And thou would'st bless the soothing unseen power 

That moved thy soul to sweetest harmony. 



It may not be — yet if in yon bright world 

My soul shall put a robe of glory on, 
When love's broad banner o'er me is unfurled, 

And golden harps proclaim my victory won, 
I shall be ever near thee — thou wilt feel 

Soft, sweet, low whispers 'round thy spirit come. 
And unheard voices shall to thee reveal. 

The radiant beauty of my far-off home. 



THOUGHT. 



' Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind. 



Oh ! blessed gift, unchained and free, 

No mortal hand can fetter thee ; 

Thou spurnest a tyrant's might and power, 

Though gloom and darkness 'round thee lower, 

And from the depths of dark despair, 

Soarest like a spirit through the air. 



The frowning dungeon chills the form 
That once with life and love was warm — 
Hides from the sight the well beloved, 
Who in dark hours their faith have proved 
But cannot hold thee ! O'er the world 
Thy free broad pinions are unfurled, 
Stealing through. strongest prison bars, 
Unbounded by the shining stars. 



THOUGHT. 27 

"With the beloved day by day, 
Hovering around their every way, 
Numbering each fond and gentle word 
That in love's accents has been heard ; 
Counting as treasures rich and rare 
Remembered smile and feature fair ; 
Retracing every look and tone. 
Awoke responsive to our own. 



O'er the deep ocean, dark and broad. 
Thy fairy feet full oft have trod — 
Scaled the proud mountain, on whose crest 
Perpetual snows defiant rest — 
Lingering beneath the sunny skies 
Which o'er Italia's flowers arise, 
Where Genius rears its sacred shrine. 
Whose altars glow with sparks divine. 



O'er desert plains, o'er Greenland's snow. 
Unwearied do thy footsteps go ; 
The mountain strain, the voice of song. 
Their echoes 'round thy way prolong. 
O'er the bright heather — o'er the clime. 
Where hills and streams tell truths sublime, 
Thy spirit roves unchecked and free : 
No power of earth may fetter thee. 



28 THOUGHT. 

Listening to many a clash and clarig 
That o'er the battlefield has rang, 
Gazing on many an upturned eye, 
That for its country loves to die ; 
Hearing through carnage and through flame, 
From pallid lips some cherished name, — 
Some faintly murmured household word, 
Which the last pulse of life hath stirred. 



Down to the quiet, lonely tomb. 
Thought goes, unheeding death and gloom, 
To linger 'round the cherished form, 
The heart that once with love was warm ; 
Beneath the silent valley's clod. 
Where foot of man hath never trod, — 
Where not one blessed word can come 
To break the stillness of that home. 



Through the long vista of the past. 

Thought ! mighty Thought ! hath fleeted fast, 

To listen to the shepherd's strain. 

That echoed on Judea's plain, — 

Back to the Jordan's crystal sheen. 

To olive trees of rarest green, — 

Back to Gethsemane's dark hour, 

And clouds that dark o'er Calvary lower. 



THOUGHT. 29 



Gazing on our ascended Lord, 
Borne cloud-like to his rich reward : 
Passing with Him the pearly gate, 
Where seraphim and cherubs wait 
To hail Him, King and Ijord of" all, 
In deathless strains, that ever fall 
In one exultant, glorious tone, 
Around our Father's radiant throne. 



Where he of mighty faith was blest — 
Where feet the fiery furnace pressed — 
Unto the memorable hour 
When God rev^ealed His living power, 
And through the long and fearful night, 
Blent lamb-like heart with lion might, 
Guarding His own with loving eye; 
That could man's wickedness defy. 



Where on thy bosom, sheltering Nile, 
The angels wooed an infant smile, 
And guardian wings were spread around 
A bark that blessed haven found. 
Where roaring waters frowned so dark, 
While safely sped the saving ark; 
Where sank to rest a wailing world, 
Clasping the dart defiant hurled. 



30 THOUGHT. 

To Eden's garden — strangely fair — 
Hearing the voices whispering there, 
Watching the stealthy foe draw near 
To breathe deceit in woman's ear ; 
Hearing, as they with knowledge trod. 
The voice of an oiFended God, 
Who closed the gates of Paradise 
Forever on their longing eyes. 



Back to the hour when this fair earth, 

'Neath hand divine, attained its birth, 

When hill and plain and shrub and tree, 

Awoke to nature's harmony ; 

When shining stars stole gently out, 

And joined the glad and glorious shout. 

As the Creator's voice of might 

Spake, thunder-toned : " Let there be light ! " 



High Heaven to mighty Thought doth say : 
Here shall thy wandering spirit stay ; 
Thy proud feet may no farther go, 
Thy soul no deeper mystery know. 
Until that hour when there doth stand 
Upon the sea, and on the land, 
An angel form, who, gone before, 
Shall tell that Time shall be no more. 



ANNIE TYNG. 



One pleasant day in Autumn time, 

When nature sang her sweetest chime, 

Through golden gates that gleam afar, 

And as a bright and gliding star, 

An angel wandered gently down, 

Whose stainless brow wore love's own crown, 

It came to us, and joy did bring — 

We call that angel — Annie Tyng. 



Sweet purity and native grace 
Were stamped upon the cherub face ; 
And as we lengthened our fond gaze, 
How quickly sped the happy days. 
For never weary were our eyes 
With that sweet flo\yer from Paradise, 
That fragrancy doth brightly fling 
Along life's path — sweet Annie Tyng. 



32 ANNIE TYNG. 

With lips of tempting coral glow, 

Whose infant tones like music flow; 

With placid brow, and loving eye 

Lit up with childish witchery ; 

With soft brown hair, whose sunny gleam 

Of jeweled radiance doth seem ; 

With these, and many a pleasant thing, 

Thou earnest unto us — Annie Tyng. 



Oh, that thy unsealed hours may be 
From every cloud and shadow free ; 
That Hope full many a wreath shall twine 
For that unsullied brow of thine; 
That dimpled hand ! oh, may it know 
The presence of afi^ection's glow. 
When it, all trustfully, shall cling 
To those thou lovest — Annie Tyng. 



And when thy faltering feet shall go 
To tread where Jordan's waters flow ; 
When 'round them riseth many a wave, 
And those who love thee cannot save ; 
Saviour, enclasp this precious form 
Amidst the wreck of life's last storm. 
And safely through the valley bring 
The pilgrim feet of Annie Tyng. 



ANNIE TYNG. 33 

Bear our beloved, then, with thee, 
Through pearly gates, whence she did flee ; 
Place her above the shining stars, 
Where not a trace of sorrow mars ; 
Crown her amid unchanging day, 
Her spirit clothe in white array, 
Where waveth many an angel wing — 
Our peerless child — sweet Annie Tyng. 



SPRING TIME. 



Spring-time ! thou comest with gladness now, 

Smiles are enwreathing thy lips and brow ; 

Thou bringest music for streamlet and rill, 

And robes of beauty for valley and hill. 

Oh ! tame thy footstep — thou canst not know 

Of a sunny head that doth rest so low ; 

Soften thine accents of joyous mirth. 

For its light is lost from our household hearth. 



Dost thou remember those azure eyes. 
Beaming with beauty caught from the skies? 
And the childish form that so gracefully 
Bent low to look in the violet's eye? 
Thou hast not forgotten the gleeful shout 
That rang from the fount of his happiness out 1 
Nor the pleasant fall of those little feet. 
Ever bounding new joys to meet. 



SPRING TIME. 35 

Dost thou remember his smooth white brow? 
Ah, me ! it dost rest in the churohyard now, 
And my heart forgets, as the tears flow down, 
That it weareth in glory a shining crown. 
Faithless and thankless ! why do I weep 
That his eyes are sealed in so sweet a sleep? 
Why do I long for his smile so fair. 
When his home is now where the angels are? 

Thou dost remember liis voice of song ! 
Will thou not miss it when passing along? 
Like a bird's it floated upon the air. 
Lovingly lingered its echoes there; 
Nevermore shall its sweet refrain 
Gladden and brighten our home again. 
Spring-time! come gently o'er valley and hill. 
When that lip of melody lies so still. 



Will thou not linger where he doth rest? 
Strewing thy offerings o'er his hushed breast. 
Will thou not. Spring-time, fond vigils keep 
Over his early, unbroken sleep? 
Bring there thy breathings of fragrant balm, 
Treasures of sunlight, and twilight calm — 
We would trace thy steps in that sacred spot. 
In thy fresh heart's gladness forget it not. 



36 SPRING TIME. 

In the light of that far and fadeless shore, 

Where kindred footsteps fail nevermore; 

In the clime of glory, where he hath gone, 

In the radiance rare of eternal dawn, 

I shall meet the feet that have grown so still; 

That childish voice shall my spirit thrill ; 

I shall catch the gleam of his angel wing. 

As it waves 'neath the smile of Immortal Spring 



"MY jewels:' 



Lines wrilten while absent from ray children. 



I have a gentle, pensive child, 

With calm and thoughtful brow. 
Who cons delighted o'er the page 

Of learning even now. 
May years, long years, of bliss be hers, 

And may each day unfold 
Treasures of mind more rich and rare 

Than gems of purest gold. 

I have a bright-eyed, laughing child, 

Who- knows no grief or care, 
But passes on through life as though 

All things were bright and fair. 
I would that she might ever be 

Happy and gay as now ; 
That grief might never set its seal 

Upon that joyous brow. 



38 "MY JEWELS." 

I have a son — a third sweet one, 

Whose little playful wiles, 
And mimic airs of dignity 

Win from us love and smiles. 
An upright, onward course, be his. 

And may that childish brow, 
When days and years have passed away. 

Be free from stain as now. 



My children ! we are parted now. 
When do you think of me? 

When daylight slowly fades in even ? 
Then most I think of ye. 

When slumber closes each bright eye. 
And stills each childish tone. 

How fondly Fancy turns to thee, 
^ My cherished ones ! my own ! 



And if no more each little form 

Shall greet a mother's eyes, — ■ 
And if a dear familiar voice 

To mine no more replies, — 
'Tis sweet to know there is a clime 

Where ties no more are riven ; 
'Tis sweet to think we'll meet again 

In yonder blissful Heaven. 



LA UREL HILL CEMETERY. 



Philadelphia. 



Sweet spot, where flowers of loveliest hue 

In rich luxuriance bloom, 
And forest trees their verdure wave 

O'er the unconscious tomb ; 
I gaze on thee entranced, for even 

In Fancy's wildest dream, 
Nought e'er appeared so sweetly fair, — 

So beautiful did seem. 

Here childhood, with its sinless brow, 

Is calmly laid to rest, 
The light of many a darkened home, 

The loveliest and best. 
Youth sleepeth, too, 'mid bloom and shade, 

And little recks, I ween. 
Of the many hopes, and visions bright, 

Which gilded life's fair scene. 



40 LAUREL HILL CEMETERY. 

Each flow'ret seems to speak to me 

A language of its own. 
They tell of hope and constancy, 

But not of these alone. 
The breath of love beyond the grave, 

For those who silent lie; 
They bid the stricken heart look up 

To the world beyond the sky. 

How sweetly manhood resteth here, 

Life's fitful fever o'er ; 
The sordid, burning cares of life 

Shall sear that heart no more. 
And those of three-score years and ten,- 

Surely to one like thee, 
The grave must be a blessed spot — 

Gate of Eternity ! 

And mighty genius* slumbers here, 

A pleiad lost and gone — 
Yet tones breathed from his spirit-harp 

Still sweetly linger on. 
Nor Time, nor Death, can ever quench 

That lofty, Godlike ray ; 
Perfected in a glorious world, 

'Twill shine in endless day. 



^ Willis Gaylord Clark. 



LAUEEL HILL CEMETERY. 41 

So hushed and still ! I list in vain 

For some familiar tone ; 
Each lip is mute — no voice is heard 

Save echo of my own. 
Farewell ! and when this eye is dim, 

This throbbing heart is still, 
Let mo be gently laid to rest 

'Mid thv bloom — sweet Laurel Hill. 



LOVE OK 



A reply to the Hon. Mrs. Norton's " Love Not.' 



What though the wreaths of Hope are made 

Of flowers that fade away, — 
Whose buds of beauty, in their morn, 

The spoiler's blight betray ? 
Though with a disappointed heart, 

Ye dream of brightness gone, — 
Still cling to their sweet memory. 

And still — love fondly on. 

What though the thing you love may die. 

And watching stars look down, 
Upon that spot of calmest rest, 

To place their silvery crown ! — 
Keep still the tenderest thoughts and true, 

For the beloved and gone. 
And though the days are dark and drear, — 

Love on — love fondly on. 



LOVE ON. 43 

What though beloved eyes may change, 

And cease to smile on you ; 
And hands grow cold, and hearts estranged ; 

And lips no longer true ; 
Even then, though anguish rend the soul, 

And life and light seem gone, — 
Cling to the happy vanished hours, 

And still — love fondly on. 



Love on ! love on ! — the dear one's head 

Must keep its own fair crown. 
Its fadeless halo Time nor Death 

Can never more lay down ; 
And through the long eternal years, 

New glory it shall don, — 
With Cherubim and Seraphim, 

Whose hymn shall be — Love On. 



TO ADA HUSTON HA YES. 



God bless thee ! Little Ada, 
In thy unshadowed years, 

And ever cluster 'round thy path 
Life's hopes without its fears. 

My heart goes forth unto thee. 
And fain would I descry 

For thee a joyous future, — 
A cloudless destiny. 

I never yet have gazed upon 
Thy happy cherub face ; 

But still I often image forth 
A form replete with grace. 

And fancy giveth to thee 

Thy mother's brow of love, — 

And, too, her mild and gentle eye. 
With ray as from above. 



TO ADA HUSTON HAYS. 45 

Hast thou her ringing laugh — 

That sweet and bird-like tone 
Whose echoes linger 'round me yet, 

Although the sound be gone? 



Speak for me to thy mother, 

My childhood's cherished friend, — 

The chosen one of youth's bright hours. 
Whose soul with mine did blend. 



Tell her that memory ever 

Goes back to grave and flower. 

And through the vista of past years, 
Brings forth each buried hour. 



It lingers o'er the path 

We trod on learning's mount. 
And bends again with deep delight 

O'er the Pierian fount. 



And sweetly, at its bidding. 
Comes up the early dead ; — 

The friend we loved, in years gone by,- 
Dust rests on her bright head. 



46 TO ADA HUSTON SAYS. 

Once more — God bless thee, Ada ! 

In thy unshadowed years, 
And ever cluster 'round thy path 

Life's hopes without its fears. 



THE TWAIN. 



Around one happy household hearth 

They heard the same low hymn, 
Whose soothing echoes floated out 

When daylight's rays grew dim ; 
Together at the parent's knee 

They breathed their childish prayer, 
And in the joyous morning hour 

They knelt together there. 



One treadeth still his wonted paths, 

Throughout the home and hall, 
And with glad voice respondeth still 

To merry shout and call. 
One pleasant voice we hear no more, 

His feet have turned away, 
Only to walk o'er shining streets, 

Across heaven's dazzling way. 



48 THE TWAIN. 

On one fair brow is lingering still 

Life's radiant, rosy light ; 
Its transient shadows come and go, 

Beneath love's skies so bright; — 
Upon the other, Death hath stamped 

His deep unchanging seal ; 
And yet it wears a golden crown 

Where Eden zephyrs steal. 



The hands of one find sweei employ 

In many a kindly deed, 
And win sweet words of tenderness, — 

Fair childhood's blessed meed. 
We folded one dear pair of hands 

Above a childish breast ; — 
They strike, even now, a golden harp. 

Amid the crowned and blest. 



One yet must tread life's battle field. 

To war with fierce proud foes ; 
And many a conflict may be his. 

E'er he shall know repose ; 
His heart may know dark sorrow's cloud, 

And stern affliction's hand, — 
Amid the hottest of the fray, 

Perchance he yet may stand. 



THE TWAIN. 49 

The other rests from toil and care ; 

His conflicts all are o'er; — 
The foes that gather 'round life's way 

Shall vex his heart no more ; 
His spirits ne'er shall know a cloud, 

His soul a bitter pang ; 
Nor on his car shall ever fall, 

Life's jarring clash and clang. 

Oh, blessed sleeper ! who on earth 

Hath happiness like thee? 
We yield thee up, the Saviour's arms 

Thy place of rest to be ; 
And when death comes with icy hand, 

To chill thy brother's heart. 
May he, in thy high blessedness, 

Have everlasting part. 



LOVE'S 3IE8SENGER. 



" Among the superstitions of tlie Senecas, is one remarkable for its singular 
beauty. When a maiden dies, they imprison a young bird until it first begins to try 
its powers of song, and then, loading it with messiiges and caresses, ihey loose its 
bonds over her grave, in the belief that it will not fold iis wings, nor close its eyes 
until it has flown to the spirit land, and delivered its precious burden of affection to 
the loved and lost." 



Away thou bird! on fleetest pinions go, 
We wait to miss thee in yon azure high ; 

Love's holiest treasures on thee we bestow, 

Which thou wilt bear to climes beyond the sky. 

Falter not till Peri like hast won 

An entrance into Paradise, where dwells 

The cherished one that from our side hath gone, — 
Whose vacant seat our tale of sorrow tells. 

If there be one amid the angel band, 

Whose golden harp gives back the sweetest tone ; 
If 'mid the bright and fair, in that blest land, 

One seemeth brightest, fairest, 'tis our own. 



LOVE'S MESSENGER. 51 



Our own! — thon'lt know her by the gentle smile, 
Soothing the soul like whisperings from heaven ; 

And by the love-lit eye, whose gleam meanwhile 
Shalt vie with starry crowns to seraphs given. 



On that young head the precious burden shower, 
Familiar household greetings, — that caress 

Whose faintest murmur had the magic power 
To wake her soul to deepest tenderness. 



Tell her, within that heart there is a shrine 

Deep, deep, — on which no mortal eye may look, — 

Where glows her image, changeless and divine. 

Whose deathless power long hopeless years can brook. 



Tell her how we have mourned her; that the eyes 
That smiled upon her youth have tearful grown ; 

The lips that breathed her childhood's melodies, 
Like broken harp-strings, tremble in their tone. 



Tell her that when our wonted vesper hymn 

Floats mournfully and cloud-like up to Heaven, 

Young hearts are sad, and flashing eyes are dim 

With memories of the link from Love's chain riven. 



LOVE'S MESSENGER. 

Tell her that every "tree and flower" she loved 
Sseras like an angel presence to our eyes ; 

The silver stream and fount by which she roved, 
Glow with a halo shed from out the skies. 



From that far spirit-clime, sweet bird, return ; — 
Brinp; us fond tidino;s from that land of rest. 

How will our waiting spirits hope and yearn 

For Love's own token from our crowned and blest. 



LINES. 



' There are voices whose music I have loved full well. 
Eyes of deep geiuleness that are afar." 



The gorgeous rays that tell the sun at rest, 
Have faded like the pageantry of dreams; 

Not faintest trace of gold in yonder West, 

To tell how bright, how glorious were its beams. 

Twilight is gathering 'round me — the fair lake 
Has hushed its wavelets to unbroken sleep; 

No ripples on its placid bosom break, 

As deepening shadows gently o'er it creep. 

The live-long day the gold and azure sky 
Hung smilingly above it, cloudless, bright; 

Its mirrored beauties seeming e'er to lie 
Far down amid the depths of liquid light. 

My heart is sad — for boundless thought doth fly 
To linger 'round the absent and beloved ; 

And memory sits brooding, dove-like, by, 

Its blessed power, who loves and has not proved? 



54 LINES. 

It breathes of many a dear and cherished tone, 
Whose echoes linger ever 'round my heart; 

Of eyes whose light fell fondly on mine own ; 
Of quivering lips, when fate had bid us part. 

Mainly since that dark hour ray soul hath yearned 
For life's glad music which it oft hath known ; 

For words and looks that from my path seemed turned, 
For blissful hours, now gone — forever gone. 

Now as I muse, and many a silvery star 

Sheds its mild radiance on my upturned brow, 

I know they look on those I love afar, 

Even as their gaze seems resting on me now. 

Hope gently whispers that the same blue sky 
That gleams above them doth o'ershadow me; 

That though long weary miles between us lie, 
Fondly united we again shall be. 

How shall I joy to gaze upon each face ! 

And catch each blessed murmur as of yore! 
Oh ! Time, I charge thee, leave thou not thy trace; 

Unchanged to me each cherished one restore. 



LINES. 



To Juliet L. Bostwick. 
' Though lost to sight to memory dear." 



There was a time — a blessed time, 

When " we sat side by side," 
Breathing a changeless trust and love, 

Whatever might betide. 
I listened to each uttered thought. 

Fresh from thy loving heart. 
And never dreamed that coming years 

Should find us far apart. 

Brightly, as though on angel wings. 

Sped on those happy hours ; 
And every path we gaily trod 

Was radiant with Hope's flowers. 
When 'round my home, my own dear home, 

Thy cheerful accents fell, 
They woke within my heart a thrill — 

Thine was Affection's spell. 



65 LINES. 

There came an hour, a dark sad hour — 

There came a ''last fond night;" 
Around me were the friends whose love 

Had made life all so bright. 
I felt how changed this world would be- 

I hnew that we must part. 
Hope's fearful knell was in mine ear, 

Despair around my heart. 



Soon, soon the final moment came — 

Our sad farewell was spoken ; 
And quivering lips and tearful eyes 

Proclaimed each fond tie broken. 
Oh! no — not broken — for I know 

There is a mystic thread 
That ever bindoth soul to soul, 

Though love's last words be said. 



Thou lingerest still in those dear haunts, 

And I am far away. 
Beauty is gleaming 'round my path, 

And sparkling waters play. 
And yet I turn from all, to muse 

On cherished ones afar. 
Whose image shines in memory's heaven 

As some bright worshipped star. 



LINES. 57 

Thou dost not know what untold wealth 

My soul hath garnered up. 
Looks, words, and smiles, that memory keeps — 

Bright jeicefs in life's cup. 
Oh, hiy such treasures up, beloved, 

When glows love's summer sky; 
A dark, a wintry day may come, 

When sorrow's gale sweeps by. 

God bless thee! — may an angel's hand 

Strew briglitness 'round thy way ; 
And if our last farewell be said 

In bright eternal day. 
Oh, be it mine again to hear 

Edch fond, familiar tone; 
No crown more starry in that world, 

Sweet Juliet ! than thine own. 



THOUGHTS AT TWILIGHT 



Thy cheek wag pale, ray own sweet friend, 

When last I pressed thy brow. 
And the sad notes of thy farewell 

Steal o'er my spirit now ; 
Like the lone music of the shell, 

They murmur ever on 
In requiem tones, o'er vanished joys 

And hours forever gone. 

Yet 'tis a bliss for me to know 

That yonder azure sky 
That hangs in beauty o'er me now, 

Shadows thee from on high. 
That from their high and glorious home. 

Each silent silvery star 
Whose quivering light beams on thy brow 

Looks on me from afar. 



THOUGHTS AT TWILIGHT. 59 

And 'tis a bliss to think upon 

Some future golden hour, 
When we shall meet again, and love 

Come with its wonted power. 
How like rich melody will fall 

Thy words upon mine ear, 
When I shall linger at thy side 

And list to accents dear. 



God bless thee ! from my inmost heart 

Comes forth a yearning prayer 
That if I meet thee not on earth, 

I shall ichere angels are. 
In yonder radiant, love-lit clime 

No cherished ties are broken, 
And through a long eternity 

No farewell word is sj^oken. 



THE MOTHER'S GRAVE. 



"There is a superstition among the Indians that if a child is laid upon its 
mother's grave, she makes herself known to it, conversing with it in dreams, and 
soothing all its fears." 



The summer sun, with burning rays 

Hath brightened hill and plain, 
And Heelehdee, we seek thy grave, 

We come to thee again ; 
For through the watches of the night 

Thy darling mourned for thee; 
Vain, vain were all our fondest words — 

A stricken lamb is he. 

Thou lovest him well, thine own fair boy, 

And thought his voice of mirth 
Thy sunshine and thy blessing, too — 

Thy peerless gem of earth. 
But thy sad spirit faltered here. 

When thy "own one" went home, 
Thou listened to the voice that seemed 

To bid thee upward come. 



THE MO T HE IV S GRAVE. 61 

How could thou leave thy gentle child 

Around our home to mourn? 
So lone and sad, by fount and stream, 

He waits for thy return. 
Thy nam3 is echoed through the vale, 

And borne through forest wild; 
No answering tone comes back to bless 

Thy eager, waiting child. 



We come to lay his orphan's head 

Upon thy quiet grave — 
Here wilt thou come to soothe his grief, 

And roll back sorrow's wave; 
Yes! by the smile that plays upon 

That cheek so often wet. 
We know that in the spirit land, 

His mother he hath met. 



Forgotten gow his weary days, 

She roves with him once more 
Through forests green and shady paths, 

By yon fair streamlet's shore; 
A love light gleams around his path — 

An added ray is given 
To that whose brightness blessed his life, 

Tinged with the hue of Heaven. 



62 THE MOTHER'S GRAVE. 

Sleep on, young dreamer, never wake- 

For, ah ! 't were bliss to go 
With her blest spirit at thy side 

From this, dark world of woe ; 
To pass so gently down death's vale, 

To wake to life above, 
And never round thy path to miss 

Thy childhood's holy love. 



THE VACANT CRADLE. 



Our little baby, 
Strayed from Paradise it may be. 

— Phoejuc Carey. 



It standeth all untenanted and lone, 

No little head its pillow now doth press, 

The pure white arms so often o'er it thrown, 
Leave but their memory in our hearts to bless. 

I li.sten vainly for the childi.sh voice, 

Proclaiming sleep's departure from an eye 

Whose star-like brightness bade our hearts rejoice, 
Whose merry glance did shadowing care defy. 

Where art thou, darling? Other homes are glad ; 

Where gleams the lustre of thy shining hair? 
And other hearts rejoice, though ours be sad. 

Missing thy presence everywhere. 

To us thou earnest, a fair and pleasant blossom, 
In spring's sweet hour, a blessing on our path ; 

And thou hast grown so dear to every bosom. 
Bereft of thee no dream the future hath. 



64 THE VACANT CRADLE. 

Yet, oftentimes, a fancy o'er me steals, 
That only for a time to us thou'rt given, 

That thy pure sweetness but to us reveals 

An angel spirit strayed from its own Heaven ; 



One whom our Heavenly Father's gentle heart 
Will soon lead back unto the Shepherd's fold, 

Fairest and loveliest 'mid the infant band 
That sing His praise on tiny harjDs of gold. 



I will not think thus ; Hope, with tissue bright, 
Flings o'er the coming years a radiant hue. 

And thou art there, with eye of flashing light, 
Living and smiling in life's sunshine too. 



Yet should God take thee in thy sinless days. 
And place a starry crown upon thy head. 

Even though from us were hid thy artless ways. 
Darling \ we could not surely deem thee dead. 



Living forever by the crystal streams, 
Basking amid the sunshine of his love, 

A bliss ne'er imaged forth by Fancy's dreams — 
These should be thine in a blest home above. 



THE VACANT CRADLE. 65 

And we should strive to look upon thee thus, 
To see thee only, seraph-like, with God, 

Though bleeding love had memories for us, 
Clinging to the pale form beneath the sod. 

Sweet one ! I number o'er each day and hour. 
That hides from me thy little cherub face ; 

And oft I think that, were but mine the power, 
As gossamer should prove both time and space. 

Pass fleetly on, ye moments ! speed the hour 

When home's fair wreath shall be unbound no more; 

Each bud and blossom, ^neath affection's power, 
Shall bloom with added beauty o'er and o'er. 



LINES TO NELLIE M. R. 



On her Birthday. 



Just fourteen years, sweet Nellie, since thine eyes 

Gazed wondrously upon the things of earth — 
A shining link amid love's golden ties, 

A mortal crowned with an immortal birth. 
Love was thy birthright, for an angel hand 

Gave to thy heart a dower of tenderness ; 
A precious gift was thine, the holy power, 

Through life's long hours to comfort and to bless. 



Purely and bright thine infant hours have sped ; 

Time passed on angel pinions fleetly by ; 
And now around thy young unshadowed brow 

Youth's rosy flowers in quiet beauty lie. 
All fair to thee seemed the long sunny hours 

That Hope presents inwove with tissue bright, 
And strangely fair the many radiant dreams 

That Fancy brightens with a future light. 



LINES TO NELLIE M. R. G7 

On this, thy natal morning, may no cloud 

Mar the rich beauty of the azure sky — 
No shadows dim the proud meridian sun 

That moves in Kingly majesty on high. 
When eve steals on, may every silvery star, 

Serene and glorious, look with eye of love 
Upon the earth — Heaven's watchful sentinels, 

That through all time their vigilance will prove. 



Ever thus I fondly wish may pass thy days. 

Without a cloud to dim their radiant light — 
AVithout a shade of care to mark thy l)row 

Or shed upon thy heart its withering blight. 
And in the early happy days of youth 

May blest Religion shed o'er thee its rays : 
" Her ways are pleasantness and her paths are peace," 

To those whose lips proclaim the Saviour's praise. 



And when life's hours are fading fast away. 

And earth receding from the mortal sight. 
Serenely may thou pass through Death's dark vale, 

Up to a home amid the realms of light ; 
And there, with glittering crown and harj). 

May thou, with voice attuned to strains of love. 
Wake glorious strains with Heaven's minstrelsy, 

Clad in the robes that wait the blest above. 



HOUSEHOLD BLOSSOMS. 



When In spring from icy earth 
Came th€ first sweet blossom forth — 
When the fair anemone 
Came to deck the hill and lea — 
When each quaint, ice-bound stream 
Woke, as from a pleasant dream; 
Then thou come to glad our eyes. 
Fairy flower from Paradise. 



Four bright summers thou hast given 
Radiance from thy native Heaven ; 
Gently have *hey kissed a brow 
Cloudless as the azure now. 
Mirrored in those laughing eyes. 
What a world of brightness lies ; 
Beauties cluster round that lip 
Where the gods might nectar sip. 



HOUSEHOLD BLOSSOMS. 69 

We grow fonder, day by day, 
As we mark each winning way ; 
Listening to each question strange, 
As far as busy mind doth range. 
No sweeter sound mine ear doth greet, 
Than the light pattering of his feet ; 
No tones more full of melody 
Than his clear laugh of childish glee. 



With bended knee, at early eve — 
With faith that doth all good believe, 
He murmurs forth his little prayer 
That God will take him in his care. 
And as he lays that young bright head 
To rest upon his little bed, 
Affection's ray still on him beams, 
And guides him to the land of dreams. 



I muse upon the future dim. 
And sigh to think, perchance for him 
There may be hours of grief and woe, — 
For such the happiest mortals know. 
God, keep and guide him in his youth. 
Impress him with thy precious truth ; 
Give him a place in that bright throng. 
And teach his lips the angePs song. 



HO USEHOLI) BL OSSOMS. 

;}: >!< >lc ^ * 

When the golden summer hour 
Beamed with its intensest power; 
When upon the balmy air 
Floated fragrance rich and rare, 
Blossom then we welcome thee; 
And glad nature's minstrelsy, 
Echoing round the joyous earth, 
Seems to gladly hail thy birth. 

One short year has quickly fled, 
And upon that darling head 
Gleams the soft and golden hair, 
Such, methinks, as angels wear. 
In the depths of those blue eyes 
Untold radiance stilly lies. 
Concentrating in their gaze, 
Borrowed light from Heaven's own rays. 

We gaze, not with a prescient power, 

Upon the unknown future hour; 

Father ! we fear such purity 

Is not for earth — but lent by thee. 

That thou, 'ere childhood's days were told, 

Will gather to thy happy fold 

Our precious lamb, to whom was given 

A radiance from its native Heaven. 



HOUSEHOLD BLOSSOMS. 71 

We cannot tell — full many year.s 
May all be his, with smiles and tears ; 
Full many a blessing may he bring 
To hearts that to his presence cling. 
Amid earth's ways be it his part, 
To bind the crushed and bleeding heart. 
An angel in Life's path to prove 
His mission one of peace and love. 

Whether, for him, the future hour 
Shall come with an enlivening power ; 
Or, sleeping in his lowly bed, 
The grassy turf spring o'er his head ; 
Guide him, O Father, with thy love, 
Up to the shining courts above; 
And while earth's pilgrimage we run. 
Teach us to say, "Thy will be done." 



JUDEA. 



"A mighty temple, filled with remembrances of the majestic, past. 



Land where the calm blue skies still bend 

O'er the thrice sacred spot, 
Where Bethlehem's babe took up life's march, 

And bore earth's pilgrim lot; 
Where Jordan's waters murmur still, 

And flow as brightly now, 
As when the pure baptismal drops 

Gleamed o'er his sinless brow. 

Land where the mount and vale still speak 

Of the pure feet that trod 
So meekly in the. paths of life, 

A man, and yet a God ; 
Holy thou art, and loving hearts 

Their faithful vigils keep, 
Over the vanished years, whose clouds 

In vain the spirit sweep. 



JUDEA. n 



There thy deep shades, Gethsemane, 

Closed 'round his dark despair, 
And rose that heavenly utterance, 

In tones of breathing prayer: 
There angel forms, in that sad hour 

Unfurled the shining wing. 
And from a father's gentle hand, 

Calm blessedness did bring. 



There thou dost stand, Mount Calvary, 

Still, still the mighty seal 
That God hath stamped upon the earth, 

His mercy to reveal. 
Where pale Humanity's heart throbs, 

In direst anguish beat, 
To frame for Earth's lost wanderers, 

A sure and safe retreat. 



Yea, thou art Holy Land, where saints 

And patriarchs gently sleep ; 
Where shepherds on the starlit plains, 

Their mighty watch did keep ; 
Where Faith, with clear and undimned eye. 

Looked only up to Heaven, 
Winning the precious guerdon back. 

Her hand to God had given. 



74 JUDEA. 

Land of Judea ! sunlight falls, 

Methinks, more bright on thee ; 
There azure skies have hung around 

Love's deepest mystery. 
Thy quiet stars, that watch on high, 

Do they not ever shine. 
Amid their brightness, sacred truths 

And principles divine? 



Land of Judea ! every leaf 

Borne on thy balmy breeze, 
Doth gather round it untold wealth 

In blessed memories ; 
Thy streams are sacred, fount and flower. 

The valley and the hill, 
Jehovah's high omnipotence. 

Is speaking from them still ! 



THE TWIN BROTHERS. 



Two joyous children sported once, 

In cloudless infancy ; 
Each wore the same fair sunny smile, 

Their's the same voice of glee. 
They heard together childhood's songs, 

The same sweet cradle hymn. 
When the pure stars came stealing out. 

And daylight's rays grew dim. 



Together still when youth's glad hours 

Shone o'er each childish head ; 
Through dingle and through dell they roved, 

With light and happy tread. 
And stranger eyes gazed with delight. 

As thus they looked the same. 
Alike in cheek, and lip and brow. 

Alike in all save name. 



76 THE TWIN BROTHERS. 

Oh 'twas a sight of beauty rare, 

And many a word was said, 
Invoking heaven's blessing down 

Upon each youthful head ; 
Calling to bird and butterfly, — 

Chasing the murmuring bee, — 
Oh, merrily their glad hours passed. 

Their days were full of glee. 



But, ah ! amid that home of love, 

The spoiler's step was heard ; 
He hushed the gentle mother's voice, 

Sealing each wonted word. 
A stranger voice must breathe the strain, 

That sweetly lulled to rest ; 
That lovelit eye is darkened now, 

And cold that sheltering breast. 



Oh! desolate and changed that home — 

Love's fairest wreath unbound — 
With saddened hearts they twine it o'er 

A lonely church-yard mound. 
Its buds and flowers are glowing with 

Affection's sacred tears, 
It leaves perennial, safe from blight, 

Through manv future years. 



THE TWIN BROTHERS. 

On, on from youth, the twain did pass, 

While on each pure high brow, 
We marked the lines of thoughtful care, — 

Each was a warrior now. 
In life's stern battle each did take 

Helmet and glittering spear, 
And with true heart and fearless step. 

To stoutest foes drew near. 



But as the years went swiftly by, 

They found them far apart. 
Fate severed love's familiar ties, 

It never heeds the heart. 
The fond, the true — they learned to live 

With weary miles between, 
O'ershadowed by the same blue sky. 

The same star's silvery sheen. 



And now beneath the western skies 

One resteth calmly now, 
Life's cares and changes never more 

Shall mar that manly brow. 
The hand so often clasped in his, 

In childhood's sunny hour. 
Wiped the chill death-dew from his brow 

With love's own changeless power. 



78 THE TWIN BROTHERS. 

Sweet be his sleep — oh, quiet stars 

Shine on his place of rest ; 
Flowers ! gentle messengers from heaven, 

Bloom brightly o'er his breast ; 
And when before the Great White Throne, 

The severed ones shall stand, 
Grant that a place be given to them, 

Father! at thy right hand. 



A HEARTS THANKSGIVING. 



For the rosy light of morn, 
From a home of shadows born — 
For the gladdening sunny ray 
Shining through the perfect day — 
For the noontide's fervid hour — 
For the twilight's holy power — 
For the midnight, with its tone 
Veiled in mystery alone, 

I thank thee, Father ! 

For each little, humble flower, 
Peeping forth in Spring's first hour — 
For the fragrance, rich and rare. 
Floating; on the summer air — 
For the golden, gorgeous dyes 
Gleaming 'aeath autumnal skies — 
For the genial winter hour. 
Girded with an icy power, 

I thank thee. Father! 



80 A HEART'S THANKSGIVING. 

For the wealth of fruit and flower, 
Adding joy to every hour — 
For the streamlet's silvery flow, 
With its voice of long ago — 
For the ocean's power and might, 
Flowing on through Time's quick flight, 
Speaking with a thunder tone, 
Or breathing low and mournful moan, 
I thank thee, Father ! 

O'er my path are blessings shed ; 
Holiest mercies crown my head ; 
The murmured vows of early youth, 
Still echo o'er their changeless truth. 
The music tone of Love's first hour 
Still deepens with a deathless power ; 
For happiness so rare and pure — 
For love that doth through time endure — 
I thank thee. Father ! 

That the prayer of infancy 
Hath been murmured at my knee, — 
Household flowers, whose deathless bloom 
Fill my heart with rich perfume ; 
Clustering around my happy path, 
No such joy the wide world hath ; 
For the hope to live above 
With those redeemed by matchless love, 
I thank thee. Father ! 



A HEART ^'^ THANKSaiVINir. 81 

That the eves, whose loving- i-ay 
Falls so kindly, day by day — 
That the li})s, whose f^entle tone 
Throu<;h life's lapses have been known — 
That the arms that circled me 
Throngh unconscious infancy, 
Are near me still, my life to bless 
With changeless love and tenderness, 
I thank thee, Father ! 

For Salvation's wondrous plan, 
Given to rescue fallen man — 
For the lamp of life, whose ray 
Turneth darkness into day ; 
Lighting up Death's lonely vale, 
Quelling foes who oft assail, 
And pointing to a better world 
Where Love's broad banner is unfurled, 
I thank thee. Father ! 

For the Heaven, where robes of light 
Awaits the victor through love's night ; 
Where in rapture saints bow down 
To receive the glittering crown. 
Where a glorious minstrelsy. 
Blending all harmoniously, 
Throughout eternity's long hour. 
Proclaim Jehovah's love and power, 
I thank thee, Father ! 



TO A BEREAVED ONE. 



Unto thy guarded and sheltered fold 

Death came with a stealthy tread, 
And bore away, through the valley dark, 

Thy lamb to the silent dead ; 
Amid the circle in thy dear home, 

Thou dost gaze on a vacant chair, 
And mourn for the little sunny face 

That shall never more brighten there. 



Thou hast looked thy last on fhe precious form, 

Thine idol, thy pride and care, 
And wept as thou gave to the cold, damp earth, 

A being so beauteous and fair. 
Thou hast folded the eyelid in dreamless sleep, — 

Heard the childish heart grow still, 
And turned from the grave, love's last fond shrine, 

To thy home grown strange and chill. 



TO A BEREAVED ONE. 83 

By the nieniory of the radiant light 

That lit up the lips and brow, — 
By the rustlino; felt of the angel wing, 

When thou in grief dost bow ; 
There shall come to thy soul a gentle voice, 

Breathing such dreams of heaven 
That thy soul will be glad that such perfect bliss 

To thv cherished child is o-iven. 



No tears, no tears for the happy one, 

Whose young and untried feet 
Have early turned from the weary paths, 

Which all life's wanderers greet. 
A loosened bird, in its upward flight. 

Ye gaze on its glancing wing ; 
But seek not to woo it back again, — 

O'er its soul a fetter to fling. 



No tears, no tears, though the earth and sky 

May Avear a less glorious hue; 
And the murmuring sound of the streamlet's flow, 

Is bereft of its music too. 
No tears, though memories cling to thy soul 

Of fair childhood's parted smile ; — 
Though the rosy lips and merry eye 

Shall no more thy heart beguile. 



84 TO A BESEAVED ONE. 

For up in you radiant, deathless >vorld, 

'Neath a Heavenly Father's eye, 
Undinimed by sorrow, untouehed by eare. 

His hours glide sweetly by ; 
Never to sorrow, and never to mourn. 

In a mantle of glory arrayed : 
Oh, say, 'mid thy fondest hope for thy child, 

Couldst thou of such hlisfi have prayed ? 



And thou never again may the little feet 

Come pattering unto thee. 
Though never, around thv darkened home. 

Shall echo that voice of glee. 
Though oft as the eve steals gently on. 

Thou shalt bend o'er the little bed. 
Striving to see through thy blinding tears 

Some trace of that sunnv head. 



Look up, look up to the world of love, 

And list to the seraph strain, 
And hark ! how the tones so missed from earth 

Come echoing back again. 
Thy child awaits thee in robes of light. 

By the fair celestial shore ; 
Thou shalt find him there 'midst the pure and bright. 

And be parted nevermore. 



MEMORIES OF ONE lih:iJ)Vh:i). 



"The (IcikI— wIkwc image; nuiiKlit may <lirii 
Wilhiii the toinjile of my brrast." 



One fleeting year hatli (;(mie and gone, 

Since love, we mourned the(; dead, — 
One fleeting year the grassy turf 

Has rested o'er thy head. 
Yet never hath my soul forgot 

In memory's light to trace, 
Thy gentle tones and loving smiles, 

Thy form of rarest grace. 

Stern winter came when thou wert laid 

So gently to thy rest, 
Folding his mantle, icy, white, 

Above thy silent breast. 
Yet in those hours so consecrate 

To happiness and mirth. 
My soul was sad, I thought of thee, 

Whose home was in the earth. 



86 MEMORIES OF OXE BELOVED. 

And joyous spring came bounding by, 

With robes of fairest green ; 
The violet with meek bUie eye. 

In mossy dell was seen. 
I turned from these to weep for thee, 

Who came not back with spring, 
While to each opening bud and flower, 

Thy presence seemed to cling. 



Summer stole on with golden hours, 

With radiance rich and rare, 
And fragrance, from its wealth of bloom, 

Was borne upon the air. 
I gazed on all, yet thought of thee. 

Mine eyes were dim with tears, 
There came for thee a requiem tone, 

Beloved of other vears. 



And now the gorgeous autumn years 

Are decking vale and hill ; 
More slowly runs the rippling stream. 

More calm the gushing rill. 
Still at my side thou art, beloved I 

Yea, never to depart, 
Thine image lives within my soul, — 

'Tis graven on my heart. 



MEMORIES OF ONE BELOVED. «' 

I hear thy voice at early morn, 

And in the starry night, — 
'Tis blended with the fiiir and pure. 

The beautiful and bright. 
From out the gentle lily's bell; 

From out the rose's blush, 
The haunting tones of by-gone days, 

Like music murmurs gush. 



Oh! tell me, in thy far-off home, 

Hast thou sweet thoughts of me ? 
Dost thou look down with angel gaze. 

On those that weep for thee? 
Sadly the autumn breeze sweeps by, 

And as it fans my brow 
I seem to hear a spirit's call, — 

Beloved! is it thou? 



I may not know, and yet perchance 

Thou lingerest often near, 
A guardian from yon glorious world 

To bless my pathway here. 
Remembering, in thy radiant home, 

The love so fond in this. 
Unchanged, save in the added light 

Of heaven's transcendent bliss. 



THE LOVED AND LOST. 



Tho beautiful is \-anished suid returns not, " 



1 woiir to tliiue own tUir homo, swoet friend. 

Longing tor that dear smile 
That through many a bv-gone and happy day 

Could each toil and care beguile. 
As the thirsty ilow'ret longs for dew. 

So I for thy gentle voi<^ ; 
In each dear tone lies a holy spell 

That will bid my heart rejoice. 



I stood on the threshold where ot\ I stood. 

And Hope's blessed dreams were nigh. 
For ;^>on should I hear thy welcome voice. 

And list to each tbnd reply. 
I thought not then of the long, long days. 

Since I on thy tace had looked, — 
Forgotten the painful, parting hour. 

That memorv never brooked. 



THE LOVED AND LOST. m 

Alas ! alas I that thy home, sweet friend, 

Is strangely lone and drear, 
For the voireless room, and the vacant chair, 

Tell me thou art not here. 
I wander amid each familiar spot, 

And my sad heart pines in vain 
For the coming step and the welcome tone 

I shall never more hear again. 



Oh ! sadly and tearfully comes the truth 

That THOU to thy rest art laid — 
Thou for whose well-remembered smiles 

My soul hath so (jften prayed. 
Thou art hidden from me, oh, well beloved. 

Our meetings on earth are o'er. 
And my spirit's chords are echoing back 

The requiem tone no more. 



And can it be that the Spring will come 

Again with its robe of green? 
In the golden train of the Summer hours 

Will gladness and mirth be seen ? 
Will Autumn come with its golden hues, 

And the Winter hours roll on '.' 
Can the earth seem bright and beautiful. 

When THOU to the dust art gone? 



90 THE LOVED AND LOST. 

It seemeth unto my saddened heart 

That the flowers must cease to bloom, 
And the sunshine fade, and the gentle wind 

Breathe requiem notes of gloom. 
That with thy life fled such sweetness rare, 

That nature her grief must show ; 
Shrouding the beauty and brightness of earth 

In habiliments of woe. 



Oh ! cherished friend, from thv far-oflP home, 

Come to my soul once more. 
And whisper to me of the radiance rare 

That illumines yon happy shore. 
Come with the blest dreams of Our Father's home, 

Of the many mansions there — 
And cheerfully I will tread the paths 

That lead to a land so fair. 



A WELCOME. 



Lines inscribed to the Johnslonian Club, of Peoria, Illinois. 



Mine eyes have waited long-, dear friends, 

Witli faith and hope to see yon all 
Beneath the roof-tree of onr home. 

Within the echo of my call. 
And days and months have fleeted by, 

With promises all nnfilled. 
Until I wished that with some art 

To woo you here I might be skilled. 



The spirit of the chainless mind, 

Kind thought, was ever busy still. 
Beguiling me with memories sweet. 

Which had the power my heart to thrill. 
Your voices lingered 'round my life. 

Your pleasant words were numbered o'er, 
Although unto my vision came 

Remembered brightness — nevermore. 



92 .4 WELCOME. 

But now, to-night, with happy heart 

That of enjoyment asks no more, 
I welcome yon within our home, 

And greet you warmly, o'er and o'er. 
Familiar voices make me glad. 

And kindly eyes shed wonted light ; 
Blessing with beauty and with grace 

And cheer, the winter's night. 



God bless you all through coming time 

And strew each path with rosy flowers ; 
Making the passing moments bright 

Before they fade in golden hours. 
Touching the warp and woof of life 

With colors whose enduring light 
Shall take their radiance from the world. 

Whose days eternal know no night. 



God bless you all, and bring your feet 

Upon our threshold oft to stand, 
Where happy doors shall open wide 

To greet you 'mid our household band. 
God bless you with his love and care, 

Until w^e aU shall dwell in peace 
On the bright shore where kindred souls 

Shall meet, and friendships never cease. 



CLASH SONG. 



Of the CJrartuatcs of tho Peoria High School, 1878. 



Happy hours of joy and gladness, 
Leave no trace of care or sadness 

On each light and youthful heart; 
But to-day a shadow stealcth 
O'er the sunshine, and revealeth 

Words that whisper, We mnsf part. 

Four bright years of peace and ])leasure, 
Bringing Spring and Summer's treasure. 

Mellowed skies and balmy air; 
White, cold Winter, full of laughter, 
Full of sweet thoughts coming after. 

Merry spirits to declare, — 

When we loved to greet each other. 
Fond and true, as sister, brother, 

Welcoming the moments bright. 
Which would call us to our places, 
There to greet familiar faces, 

Lips that would our joy requite. 



94 CLASS SOXG. 

But we part, and moruing's splendor 
Brings not back, with summons tender, 

Joyous hearts and footsteps light; 
But with tears in silence falling, 
Mem'ry pleasant hours recalling, 

Shall their blessedness recite. 

Classmates ! e'er to-day we sever, 
To the care of the Great Giver, 

Let Its each commit our way ; 
And when life's dreams all are over, 
May his angels 'round us hover, 

Bearing us to cloudless day. 

Where, with teachers of earth's pages, 
We, throughout eternal ages. 

May these vanished hours recall ; 
Where, beside life's sparkling river. 
We shall find calm rest forever. 

And God's smiles like sunlight fall. 



THE CONVICrS MOTHER. 



Amid the crowd she sat, so wan and sad, 

Awaiting with a wrung and throbbing heart 
The word — to make life's path so pleasant seem, 

Or from that frame to make the life-blood start. 
The then gray hair fell o'er the pallid brow, 

Whose furrows to.ld of grief and toiling care ; 
The sunken eye, the bloodless lip and cheek, 

Proclaimed the sorrow that was deepening there. 



The fearful truth had come to her afar. 

That Ac, her only son, lay bound in chains; 
On wings of love and hope, o'er many miles. 

She came, unheeding toil, fatigue and pains. 
Through the long, dreary way she hastened on. 

And now she waits for the decisive word — 
While ever and anon from her full heart 

A groan, a prayer, so agonized, was heard. 



96 THE CONVICTS MOTHER. 

" Guilty ! " and aj? that bitter word raug out, 

It seared, as if with lire, that mother's soul ; 
She called with frenzied accents on her child, 

While burning tears o'er stern cold faces roll. 
And as they bore him to his prison back. 

She clung around him, while her breaking heart 
Twined its strong tendrils, firmer than of old. 

Around the life of hers so fair a part. 



" My child, my child, thy mother speaks to thee, 

Rememberest thou thy childhood's wonted tone 
When life was fair to us, and when these lips 

Sang thee to rest — my beautiful, mine own? 
1 will not give thee up to chains and death — 

Thou slialt not go to fill a felon's cell, — 
But here, as long as feeble life shall last, 

These circlino- arms a mother's love shall tell. 



" Alas ! alas ! I dreamed not of this hour 

When thou wert slumbering sweetly at my side ; 
Oh ! would to God that in that unstained time, 

In thy young grace and beauty thou had'st died. 
Say, can it be, that thou whose rosy lip 

So sweetly echoed many a lisping prayer, 
Could wander sadly from a narrow path. 

And crush my heart with bitter, wild despair?" 



THE CONVICTS MOTHER. 97 

" Mother!" The doomed one spake, and in that tone 

Was gathered up a heart's deep agony. 
"My soul is guiltless of that fearful crime — 
Unstained these hands — an innocent I die; 
[ have never forgot the gentle voice 

That soothed and guided me thro' childhood's hour, 
My mother's prayer is hovering round me yet, 
In hallowed memory of undying power. 



"And though my name be through the coming years 

A thing of scorn, contempt, and pity too. 
Heed not the dark,/a/.S'e whispers that may fall — 

Believe me, mother, true to truth and you. 
I am not hopeless — though mine hours be few; 

I am not comfortless — though death draws near;. 
And in the light of heaven my soul will stand, 

Its innocence unshadowed shall appear. 



"Look up, sweet mother! think how short the time 
Until my pain and weariness is done; 
Look up, and with the tones of olden years 

Bless me once, thy wronged and dying son. 
Farewell ! farewell, although the tie be riven 
That closely bound my fleeting life to thee; 
'Twill be a joy to thee to know and feel 

That from this guilt my stricken soul is free.'^ 



98 THE CONVICT'S MOTHER. 

She spoke not, moved not, yet so firmly clung 
To him who lowly bent to kiss her brow ; 

Her hands are loosed with gentleness and care — 
" Mother, oh bless thy doomed son even now." 

No answer! — all is over, life is done: 

With the wild joy that he was free from sin 

Her heart's strong cords were sundered, and she stood 
At heaven's fair portals, and passed gently in. 



" Rest thee, fond mother, rest thee calmly now. 

Thy soul's deep woe and sorrow are repaid ; 
By Life's pure river thou shalt welcome soon 

Thy son who treads e'en now the valley's shade." 
From out the gloom he sees an angel hand 

That calls him up 'neath heaven's unclouded skies, 
He hears a " still, small voice " that bids him come 

To dwell that dav with thee in Paradise. 



A VALENTINE. 



Thy name is treasured in my soul 

With all things fair and bright; 
Love weaves around it tendrils strong 

That cling with deathless might. 
Its echoes, like the sea-shell's tone, 

Can never cease, nor die. 
But murmur, sweetly, sadly on. 

Its cadence borne on high. 



Thy name — it trembles on my tongue, 

When stars their radiance pour, — 
When weary Earth seems lulled to rest 

And toilsome care is o'er. 
The midnight, veiled in mystery, 

Hath known the magic sound. 
And rosy morn hath caught the tone 

While still it lingered round. 



100 A VALENTINE. 

I breathe it in my fondest prayer, 

To Him who dwells on high, 
And ask for thee the watch and ward 

Of his unsl umbering eye. 
The guidance of a Father's hand 

Across life's stormy way, 
The perfect bliss of Heaven's fair clime,- 

Of its unclouded day. 



And then I hush my throbbing heart, 

And bid it stilly keep; 
The name whose echoes thrill my soul, 

Whose memory bids me weep. 
I would not thou shouldst ever know. 

How deep thy image lies, — 
I would not have thee see the tears 

That fall from watching eyes. 



For down within my truthful heart, 

I'll keep thy memory bright; 
Kg hand, save thine, shall part the clouds 

That veil its living light. 
And then, perchance, on some fair day, 

By Love's own chosen sign, 
Thou'lt know whose heart is given to thee, 

Thy faithful Valentine. ' 



LINES. 



Inscribed to Mrs. Amaii la Simerel Grimes. 



Sweet friend, unto nw prairie home 

There came a missive fair, 
That tohl me that the bridal wreath 

Was woven for thy hair. 
And with thesj tidings memories came 

Of happy by-gone years. 
When life was lavish with its smiles, 

And chary of its tears. 



Remembrance brought thee, as of old^ 

With merry lip and eye — 
With sunny brow and cheerful heart 

That could each care defy. 
I heard the cadence of thy tones 

That oft unto my soul 
Come — even as strains of melody 

O'er moonlit waters roll. 



102 LINES. 



Fancy round me flung her robe, 

And bade me gaze afar 
To thy fair home — that festive scene 

Where thou did'st shine — a star. 
And shutting out the outer world, 

I saw thee, gentle bride, 
Clad in thy robes of purest white, 

Thy chosen at thy side. 



I seemed to hear upon thy lips 

That sacred marriage vow 
That gave thee to another's home. 

Though thine be lonely now. 
And thy fond mother's loving smile 

Gleamed forth amid the tears, 
When yielding up the cherished child 

The blessing of her years. 



Thine own loved sisters — in whose hearts 

Thine image lies enshrined ; 
Bring now for thee Atfection's flowers 

For thy fair brow entwined. 
Tongue can not toll tlie tenderness 

In their fond wishes breathed ; 
Nor Fancy image forth the tints 

With which those flowers are wreathed. 



LINES. 10:i 

And many a dear, familiar face, 

I see around thee press — 
And hands are clasped, and blessings given 

In tones of tenderness. 
Faces — whose image memory keeps 

Among her jewels rare ; 
Hearts — that have echoed back to mine, 
And left their impress there. 



God bless thee in thy happiness. 

My sweet and cherished friend ; 
And may the choicest bliss of life 

Thy daily paths attend. 
Thrice happy he, whose privilege 

It is to tread with thee 
The walks of life, and from the world 

The one beloved to be. 



A MEMORY. 



"Remembrance calls thee from the dust.' 



She came to earth — a blossom fair, 
Fresh from the bowers of Heaven ; 

Unto her eye and cheek and brow 
Its radiant hues were given. 

Her childish lip was never tuned 

To notes of mortal birth, 
Nor lingered ever on her tongue 

The meaner strains of earth. 

For Death hath taken from our side 
Our cherished one — our own ! 

And the first word our darling breathes 
Will be an angel tone. 

Methinks, oh spirits bright and fair, 

That sweet is the employ 
That learns her infant heart to know 

How rapturous is her joy. 

That teaches her young hand to stray 

O'er tiny harps of gold, 
Awaking the strains of minstrelsy 

As her pure bliss is told. 



GONE BEFORE. 



'No wherefore? or 'to what good end' ? 
Shall out of doubt anguish creep 
Into our thoughts. We bow our heads; 
He giveth his beloved sleep." 



When the hours of childhood threw 
Round my path their rosy hue, — 
When I glided down life's stream, 
Compassed by a fairy dream, — 
At my side a fair-browed child, 
Many a fleeting hour beguiled, 
Throwing round my neck white arms. 
Seeking reluge from alarms. 

Not of our dark earth he seemed. 
Angel radiance round him gleamed; 
Gentle eye, and brow of thought. 
Cheek where pensive changes wrought. 
Questioning lip of wonderous power. 
Glowing all with beauty's dower; 
Little heart whose loving ways 
Filled with joy and tears our gaze. 



106 GONE BEFORE. 

Happy children, floated we 
Gently down life's tranquil sea ; 
Morning found our opening eye, 
Ready beauties to descry. 
Evening's silver star shone out, 
Hushing then our merry shout, 
Calling up the little prayer, 
For Our Father's guardian care. 



Lingered long our mother's kiss, 
Filling up our cup of bliss; 
Bending o'er the little bed 
Where reposed each childish head, 
Murmured she a fond good night. 
Leaving angels fair and bright. 
Holy watch and ward to keep 
Over childhood's blessed sleep. 



Only for three happy years 

Dwelt he where are smiles and tears; 

Then he opened angel eyes 

In the bowers of Paradise. 

While I wondered sad and lone. 

Making oft my childish moan. 

For the child, whose voice was hushed- 

For the hopes forever crushed. 



GONE BEFORE. 107 



Pallid was our mother's brow, 
For the presence slumbering low ; 
Traces of that shining head 
Vanished from its little bed, 
Echoes of that childish prayer 
Never more to linger there — 
Never more the sweet good-night, 
From those lips all still and white. 



Vanished is full many a year. 
With attending smile and tear ; 
Time and change have left their trace 
Strangely on each youthful face. 
And looking back that fair child seems 
An angel form, that comes in dreams 
To whisper of a radiant clime. 
Beyond our ken unknown to Time. 



Now our mother's gaze beholds him — 
Noio her loving arms enfolds him — 
Fast by life's pure flowing river. 
Peace and joy are theirs forever. 
To his all protecting bosom, 
Jesus gathers bud and blossom ; 
Withering blight can never come 
To that high, eternal home. 



108 GONE BEFORE. 

When ray life's sands run so low, — 
When my faint heart throbs so slow, — 
When the loving round me stand, 
And I give the feeble hand ; 
Where doth dwell my angel brother — 
Where doth dwell my sainted mother — 
Take me Father, take me home, 
Where Death's shadow may not come. 



/ CANNOT THINK THEE DEAD. 



•'The dead! whom call we so? 
They that breathe purer air, that feel, that know 
Things wrapt from us- the dwellers on the shore 
Of Spring fulfilled — that sorrow nevermore." 



I cannot think thee dead — though life's glad light 
No more may radiate from that gentle eye — 

Though those dear hands, with loving mission done, 
Folded, so stilly o'er the hushed heart lie. 

Though never more may linger on those lips 
The wonted tone of love's familiar word — 

Accustomed household greeting — welcomes fond, 
That ever through life's lapses have been heard. 

I cannot think thee dead, — though silence sets 
Its crown of shadows o'er that placid face, 

Impressed by Heaven with its mild purity, 
The spirits parting gleam of angel grace. 



no / CANNOT THINK THEE BEAD. 

A token to the loving of the bliss 

Unknown, untold, in realms of unstained light; 
A welcome to the waiting angel band — 

A victor's triumph o'er Death's proudest might. 



I cannot think thee dead, — though I have pressed 
All tearfully thy calm unchanging brow ; 

Though from the vacant chair there comes no word, 
No lingering tone to bless my spirit now. 



Though with a bursting heart mine eyes beheld 
That dear head pillowed in its coffin bed; 

And given with tears unto its silent rest. 

Yet still, beloved, I can not think thee dead. 



Around life's every path I hear thy voice. 

That voice that sweetly sang my cradle hymn, 

And taught my lips the prayer of trusting faith, 
When shining stars bade daylight's rays grow dim. 



I see thy patient smile that sweetly spake 
A meek submission to thy Father's hand; 

The soul triumphant o'er disease and pain. 
The ministrations of an angel band. 



/ CANNOT THINK THEE DEAD. Ill 

Thou art not dead! Eternal life is thine, 

And with the Cherubim and Seraphim, 
Hast learned the cadence of that strain of glory, 

And tune thy golden harp to breathe its hymn. 

With tiie apostles' company thou art — 
And with the fellowship of prophets too ; 

And noble martyrs who, 'mid tortures keen, 
Cluns: to their Master with life's last adieu. 



And with the Crucified, whose feet have trod 
The lonely mountain and the shadowy vale, 

Passing o'er Jordan's waters deep and dark, 
In the lone tomb, a sleeper still and pale. 

Risen in glory at our Father's side. 

New life and bliss His hand, all powerful, gives, 
Beneath His smile on His sustaining breast, 

Where Death may never come — my mother lives. 



THE DYING YEAR. 



Pale, dying year, thy requiem tone 
For vanished brightness, beauty gone, 
Floats mournfully o'er hill and dale. 
And mingles with the midwind's wail. 
From thy worn heart there comes a sigh. 
That like a spirit-voice sweeps by; 
And to the saddened heart doth tell, 
In mournful numbers, thy farewell. 



Thy farewell to the hours of spring, 
The streamlet's gentle whispering; 
Thy robe of green and violet bloom, 
Have found their birth place but a tomb ; 
The summer's glory is no more. 
Its untaught minstrelsy is o'er. 
And silence reigns in forest aisles 
Once proudly lit with Nature's smiles. 



THE DYING YEAR. 113 

Yet deeper sounds thy requiem tone, 
And sadder wakes thy spirit's moan, — 
For thou hast wooed to dreamless rest. 
To slumber on the earth's eold breast. 
Forms that have gladdened home and hearth, 
And made like heaven our darkened earth, — 
And sunny smiles, whose gleaming bright, 
Seemed touehed with hues of living light. 



For the dear household voices hushed. 
Whose tones, like music murmurs gushed; 
For the lone home, the vacant chair, 
And blessings often uttered there ; 
For steps of unreturning feet; 
For welcomes we no more will meet 
From silent lips whose tenderness 
Came with a thrilling power to bless. 



Yea! sound for these thy saddening note, 
For these let mournful requiems float; 
They come not back with Spring's glad hours 
They come not back with Summer flowers. 
They wake not from their quiet sleep. 
Though love its faithful vigils keep; 
The sacred tear, the heartfelt sigh, 
Lifts no dark shadow from the eye. 

c9 



114 THE DYING YEAR. 

Where years are numbered nevermore — 

Where fleeting days and months are o'er, — 

Fixed in that high, eternal home, 

Where Death's dread shadow may not come, 

Is the beloved look and tone, — • 

The gentle smile of old, our own ; 

That radiant land can never know, 

Like thee, pale year, a requiem low. 



TO THE NEW YEAR. 



Thou comest in glory, thou glad New Year, 
Time hath not shadowed thine eye so clear; 
The wreath of Hope is above thy brow, 
And its glowing buds seem bursting now ; 
Phoenix like, thou dost soar on high," 
Unheeding the ashes that round thee lie. 

We welcome thee, yet a requiem pour 

For the parted year that returns no more ; 

For the long, bright hours that have fleeted fast 

To the silent land, to the shadowy past; 

A sacred spell is around them thrown. 

Awaking to sadness the heart's deep tone. 

Holy their memory, fair and bright, 
Time shall not darken the glowing light; 
We will think of Spring with its violet blue, 
Of Summer fragrance and fairy hue ; 
We will think of the beauty of hill and dell. 
Clad with such truths as angels tell. 



116 TO THE NEW YEAR. 

And thougb we miss from the silent home 
The steps that no longer to meet us come, — 
Though we vainly yearn for the kindly tone, 
And the smile that unto the dust hath gone,-' — 
Though around our board is a vacant seat. 
Blessed Kemembrance, 'tis thee we greet. 

'Tis the ''joy of grief," and it soothes the heart 
To know that though those we love depart, — 
Though the turf shall press on the cherished head,- 
Though love's smile is gone and its last word is said,- 
Memory, keeping her sacred trust. 
Calls them all back from the silent dust. 

Spring in its gladness will soon retvirn, 
Summer shall wake from the mouldering urn, 
Flowers shall spring over hill and dale, 
Garlands be gathered to tell love's tale ; 
And the brooklet shall glide in its joy along, 
Drowsily humming its sweet, low song. 

But the loved and lost! they will come no more, 
With the parted year they have gone before; 
May we find them all in the world of light. 
Where Azrael's shadow will cast no blight; 
Where we count not life by our days and years, 
!Nor shed o'er the hopeless past our tears. 



LINES. 



I sometimes wonder that if death should come 
With stealthy tread unto my happy home, 
To tell me, that of those I love so well, 
One in his silent shadowy realm must dwell. 

No hope, no refuge from his fatal dart, 
Which could I yield him first, oh, loving heart? 
Whi(!h of mine own, my blessed household band, 
Could I resign, though for the better land? 

Not him to whom my early vows were given, 
Whose love has made this earth seem like a heaven ; 
Oh no ! oh no ! the dark and cheerless tomb 
May not enclose him with its voiceless gloom. 

Not her who first made glad my parent heart — 
Our first to love, of our young life a part; 
Whose opening bloom has blest us day by day, 
Oh, Death ! I pray thee take her not away. 

Nor him, with noble soul and manners mild, 
Whom one short year we've loved to call our child ; 
Oh no ! not him, that high and loving heart 
I fain would shield from thy unerring dart. 



118 LINES. 

Onr absent child ? Oh no ! destroyer, no ! 
Near her bright path I pray thee do not go ; 
We wait to welcome her around our hearth, 
And long to listen to her voice of mirth. 

Our fair young boy — with free and happy soul 
Enjoys the moments that so brightly roll ; 
I would not see that flashing eye grow dim, 
Seal'd in thy slumbers — ask thou not for him. 

Not my loved parents ? take thou not from me 
The arms that were my childhood's panoply; 
Life would be sad and drear unto their child, 
Missing the love that o'er my days has smiled. 

My own dear brother? no, thy ways pursue; 
Ye may not take him, for we are but two ; 
My heart with keenest sorrow would o'erflow, 
If to the grave this cherished one should go. 

All, all too dear! each golden link so bright; 
Death ! cast no shadow on love's rosy light; 
Father, Thou gavest thein all ; to Thee we look 
To us the future is a sealed book. 



THE LITTLE GRAVE. 



Inscribod to Mrs. Amanda Word, of C'suiiz, Ohio. 



The parting sunlight fell upon eaeh mound, 

As once I wandered where Death's sleepers lay, 

And gazed upon the tokens gleaming 'round, 
That told of loved and loving — passed away. 

My soul was sad, as often I did trace 

Names that I loved in many vanished years; 

Stars that in memory's heaven claimed a place. 
Names glowing on its shrine — still, still feo dear. 

The speaking marble told me many a tale 
Of blighted hopes, of stricken, buried love; 

Faith whispered, too, that the dark shadowy vale 
Was but a prelude to the world above. 

I lingered lone; beside one little mound 

Where hive's own myrtle twined so freshly o'er. 

One word, " Willie," told whose grave was found. 
It was enough — my heart asked for no more. 



120 THE LITTLE GRAVE. 

That name ! how it recalled the gentle child 
Whose sunny head was pillowed in the grave, 

Whose angel presence^ and whose accents mild, 
Gone, hushed for aye — affection could not save. 

Even as I mused bright fancy bade me list 
To seraph-tones from out the better land, 

Waked by the blessed child whose love you missed, 
The harpstrings blending 'neath his little hand. 

It bade me mark how on its fair young heart 
A starry crown with brightest glory gleamed ; 

How perfect was the bliss around him shed, 
More radiant far than mortals ever dreamed. 



THE ITALIAN BOY. 



" He mourned for his mother eoiistaiitl/, and seemed afraid to die." 



It was a fair young face to look upon, 

Though marred with keenest agony and pain, 
Though the dark eye, that like a star once shone, 

Might n(;ver glow with radiant life again; 
The pallid brow gleamed out so strangely sad, 

From the rich tresses of his raven hair, 
While the parched lip the tale of sorrow told. 

That for his heart-strings Death was waiting there. 

He was Italia's child — its azure skies 

Hung smilingly above his earliest years; 
But he had roved afar from that fair clime, 

While loving hearts kept memories and tears. 
He turned away from his own vine-clad hills, 

And sought a home across the ocean's wave ; 
Ah ! little deemed he that Hope's guiding star 

Should lo.se its brightness in an unknown grave. 



122 THE ITALIAN BOY. 

Kind hearts were gathered 'round the dying boy, 

Soft hands had smoothed his pillow, day by day ; 
He heeds them not, but sadly turns from all 

To long for one, long weary miles away. 
His heart is with his home beyond the sea. 

His grief bursts forth in wailing tones of ^A'•oe, 
And the full fount of feeling in each soul 

Seems now its utmost bounds to overflow\ 



"Oh tell me not," he cries, "of dreary Death, 

I know it will not claim me yet ; the door, 
Our cottage door, wnll open for me still. 

My mother's voice will welcome me once more ; 
She waits for me ; and my young sister, too, 

Twines the rich myrtle for her girlish brow. 
Oh ! with that happy vision on my soul, 

I can not think of Death and darkness now. 



" The world to me is beautiful and bright, 

I love the cheerful sunshine passing well ; 
Like angels seem the gentle flowers 

That clothe in beauty many a hill and dell ; 
Such happy thoughts will win me back to life. 

And I shall hear Earth's melodies again. 
Shall rove with bounding steps and fearless soul 

O'er the free mountain and unconquered plain. 



THE ITALIAN BOY. 123 

"And yet this racking pain and fever throb — 

Oh ! wliy, my mother, com'st thou not to me ? 
I yearn for thy remembered look of h)ve, 

I long to hear one tender word from thee. 
Come to me, mother, for they tell me now 

Of a dark valley I am drawing near; 
Give me the guidance of thy gentle hand, 

And I will banish every clinging fear. 



"I see thee, mother, in such happy dreams, 

I feel thy kiss ui)on my burning brow ; 
Thy low, sweet cadence, as in olden time. 

Blesses thy wayward child in visions now. 
I wake to sorrow, for thou art not here, 

And coldly falls the stranger's soothing tone; 
To thy lone child they can not bring a joy, 

Nor dim the star that o'er my childhood shone." 



Vain was the yearning of the stricken heart. 

For never might that mother's voice of love 
Cheer on Earth, or bless his dying hour, 

O'er the dark grave its mighty power to prove. 
And she so mourned for; in her sunny home 

No shadow comes to hush fair childhood's glee, 
She knows not of his agony and death, 

Nor the lone grave beyond the sounding sea. 



124 THE ITALIAN BOY. 

He died — with the dear name upon his lips; 

He sleeps — where falls the sunshine loved so well, 
And stranger hand have planted o'er his rest 

Fair flowers, his early, hapless fate to tell; 
And though, amid life's last and bitter pang, 

No mother's face of love to him was near. 
With Faith's clear eye we see a Father's hand 

That soothed each grief and calmed each rising fear. 



THE LAMB OF THE FOLD. 



I know a fold, a happy fold, 

Where household lambkins play, 
Where joyous tones of ohildisii mirth, 

R^-echo through the djy; 
Love's smiling heaven above it bends, 

Mirrored in silver streams. 
And on its springing verdant turf, 

With radiant beauty gleams. 



Within this fold the pattering sound 

Of little feet are heard. 
And manv a curl of shinins; hair 

By spring's soft breeze is stirred; 
Unshadowed is each fair young brow, 

Undimmed each flashing eye, 
And life seems but a happy dream, 

As its glad hours go by. 



126 THE LAMB OF THE FOLD. 

It is the homo of trusting love, 

And as the lisping prayer 
Is murmured from the rosy lip 

I deem the angels there. 
No fairer trophy canst thou bear, 

Oh, thou of shining wing, 
Thnn the sweet prayer from childhood's lip,- 

A pure heart's oifering. 



Lambs, precious I^ambs, I love you all. 

Far down within my heart 
I keep eaeh little form enshrined. 

Of life so fair a part ; 
I keep the echo of eaeh foot. 

The pressure of eaeh hand. 
The murmnrings of eaeh happy heart. 

Amid that household band. 



I search my heart oft to know 

Whose image deepest lies, 
"Whose winning ways and gentle smiles 

Seem clothed in loveliest guise. 
And down, far down amid its depths, 

I find a blessed name. 
One that, four happy months ago, 

A cherub came to claim. 



THE LAMB OF THE FOIJ). 127 

She is all gentleness and love, 

And o'er her infant face 
The native purity of Heaven 

Gleams with its rarest grace, 
While the soft links of shining hair 

Rest fondly on a brow. 
That in the better Land will wear 

No lovelier look than now. 



When the baptismal water gleamed 

Upon her baby brow, 
With look of love she gazed above, 

Sealing the murmured vow. 
As though she held communion sweet 

With spirits fair and bright. 
Who left awhile their radiant home 

To bathe her soul in ligiit. 



Oh, cherubim and seraphim! 

Be round her night and day. 
And from the flowers that deck her path 

Pluck every thorn away ; 
Keep her in unstained purity, 

Our wee lamb of the fold, 
And o'er her every path of life 

Your guardian wings unfold. 



128 THE LAMB OF THE FOLD. 

Shepherd of Israel, whose fond hand 

So oft hath blessings given, 
Be thine our lamb's, to dwell with thee 

Amid the fold of Heaven. 
When life is o'er, by crystal streams, 

'Mid pastures green and fair, 
May each endeared and cherished form 

An angel's radiance wear. 



THE OLDEN STRAIN. 



" How much of memory dwells within each tone.' 



Why did that olden time-worn .strain 

So thrill my inmost heart? 
Why, as each note rang slowly out, 

Did many a tear-drop start? 
It was a simple melody, 

Breathed by each worshipper, 
Yet with a master hand each chord 

My spirit's depths could stir. 



Ah ! with those tones a vision came 

Of one in rest profound, 
And by the hush so deep and calm 

Death had the sleeper crowned ; 
Placing the signet on those lips — 

His dark, unchanging seal — 
Touching the brow and cheek with hues- 

He only can reveal. 
9 



130 THE OLDEN STRAIN. 

It was a child, a coffined child, 

With little folded hands. 
Whose spirit had gone guarded home 

By radiant angel bands ; 
Pillowed in its unshadowed rest, 

Was that young sleeper's head, 
And radiant gleamings o'er that face 

More fair than life were shed. 



Those silent lips had parted oft 

To breathe sweet words for rae, 
To cheer and bless each passing hour 

Rang out those notes of glee; 
When scarce that lisping, untried tongue 

Could syllable a word. 
Some gentle, loving, household tone. 

My happy spirit stirred. 



That darkened eye shed o'er my life 

Full many a cheering ray. 
Grief's darkest hour might from it take 

The hue of Hope's bright day ; 
And those dear hands — those pale, cold hands - 

Brought many a gift of flowers, 
Entwining round my neck, while I 

Thanked God that thou wast ours. 



THE OLDEN STRAIN. 131 

And it was thou, beloved one, 

Whose little life was done; 
Yea, it was thou, whose angel life 

I deemed with us begun ; 
And it was o'er thy coffined form 

This strain so sadly rose, — 
A requiem tone of mournful sound 

Above thy last repose. .' 

Oh ! this is why that time-worn strain 

So thrills my inmi>st soul, 
And why across my spirit's chords 

Grief's numbers sadly roll ; 
It ringeth out a saddened chime, 

For that funereal hour. 
When to the silence of the grave 

We gave our household flower. 



THE DEATH OF 31 OSES. 



Judea's children gathered near to hear 

The wonted tones of him who led them^ and 

They caught with eagerness each spoken word 

And hid it in their spirit's depths, to gleam 

Forever there, a gem of fadeless light, 

Whose lucid rays fond memory enshrined 

To blend with future brightness, and to form 

A guiding star o'er life's tempestuous sea. 

He blessed them all with many a gentle word, 

And bade them trust God's loving, guarding care; 

He whose strong arm was ever 'round them all. 

Whose mighty power whelmed proud Pharoah's host, 

Bidding His people walk unharmed and free, 

All were remembered in this parting hour; 

They on whose head Time's kindly hand had placed 

A crown of silvery glory, keeping bright 

With radiance from the better Land; 

Manhood, with careworn brow and purpose firm ; 

And hoping youth, whose fearless, sunny eye, 



THE DEATH OF MOSES. 133 

Seemed to reveal from its unbounded depths 
The wealth of joy that decked his onward way. 
Farewell ! What bitterness lies in the tone; 
And as he turned to leave them, lengthened wails 
Of sorrow floated on the silvery air, 
For the departure of that step, whose coming 
Bade the weakest heart grow strong, and called 
The smile of Hope upon the cheek of Fear. 

From Moab's plains he went, with fearless heart, 
Though God had bid him come to Nebo's mount, 
And there to die — ere that worn footstep woke 
A joyful echo in fair Canaan's Land, — 
That Land, whose name as a proud beacon shone. 
To tjuide him throu<»;h the tany;led wilderness. 
Aye! God had called him up; and now his form 
Is lost unto the strained and tearful gaze 
That lovingly had looked up the ascent, 
'Till the last trace in distance far was lost. 
Onward! still onward ! God waits him there 
On Pisgah's height. 

A Father's kindly hand 
Doth lead him to the brow; and lo ! he sees. 
Sleeping in ''^uiet loveliness below. 
The land of promise — land so long desired. 
Far stretch its valleys; while the rosy light 
Crowneth with splendor every rising hill, 
And the green olive and the waving palm 



134 THE DEATH OF MOSES. 

Dot the rich hmdscape with refreshing shade; 
The streamlet flows in quiet beauty there, 
Save the faint ripple of its glancing wave ; 
And the soft shadows on the waving grass 
Give quiet to the heart and calm repose, 
So fair to look upon ! 

His spirit seemed 
Entranced with rare delight and feeble sense. 
E'en for a time forgot the higher bliss, 
So soon to be his own, in the fond wish 
To tread amid those hills and shaded vales 
That long had tilled full many a waking thought, 
And formed the brightness of his happy dreams. 
For this ho wandered day by day. 
And counted weariness a thing as naught. 
Never! Oh never! should his fevered brow 
Know the soft gales that wandered o'er that land. 
Never! Oh never! in its radiant light, 
Amid his brethren, proud and free to stand, 
He husheth vain regret and vanished hope, 
And laying off earth's faded pilgrim robe. 
Unties his sandals, putting down the staff. 
And as a monarch, entering on his power, 
With calm benignity he goeth home, — 
Home! to a clime, oh brighter, fairer far, 
Than that whose beauty mocked his longing gaze. 

Alone with God and angels, on the mount ! 



THE DEATH OF MOSES. 13& 

And only they may fold those quiet hands, 
Which from Jehovaii took this wondrous law; 
They, too,, may press those leaden eyelids down 
O'er the dim eyes that once had looked upon 
The great I Am ; and they alone may close 
In the death silence of the spirit's flight, 
The pale, cold lips that to the Lord had 
Spoken ; they may cover up that marble face, — 
That face which caught from Heaven's own light 
A gleam of its blest radiance. 

Mortal eyes, 
All dimmed with tears and sorrow, may not look 
Upon it, in its rest, with God and angels! 
He hath gone up unto that heavenly clime 
Af^here earthly hopes are lost in full fruition; 
V/here, beside the throne. Faith folds her snowy wing, 
And his exultant soul, with onward way, 
Eoams in an Eden of unclouded bliss. 



LIXES. 



Suggested by a visit to St. Luke's Hospital, New York. 



lu a far city a fair structure stands, 

Upreared by hearts sweet charity did move, 

Home for the sick, the friendless and the poor, 
Where gentle hands perform their deeds of bve. 

There Avoman's footstep softly glides around, 
Bearing a soothe balm to many a heart, 

The cheering smile, the kindly word and tone, 
Unto the sorrowful a joy impart. 

I walked amid the rows of snowy beds. 
Scanning the faces of each suffering one. 

And there were those whose hours were fading fat, 
Whose spirits angel bands had almost won. 

We entered then the consecrated spot. 

Where smitten childhood lay in patient rest, 

Where flashed the fevered eye, and the hot breath 
Came laboring up from many a little breast. 



LINES. 137 



Around the walls some gentle hand had hung 
Pictures of wondrous beauty, showing each 

The love for little children Jesus had, — 
The love his lips so truthfully did teach. 



Close nestled down uj)on a pure white couch. 
Reposed a little head, whose dark hrown hair 

Fell round a face of more than mortal mould. 
And clung in all its sunny brightness there. 



The loving eye grew bright with pleasant smiles, 
As by her side we lingered; and I thought 

How beautiful that childish brow would look. 
When Heaven's unfading glory it had caught. 



Meek, suffering child ! she never more could know 
The springing footstep; fell disease had bound 

Upon her moulded limbs its tyrant chain. 
Clasping each link so firmly all around. 



Yet there she calmly lay, with blest content 
Filling her soul with every j)leasant thought, 

While ministering spirits loved to mark 

The gentle lesson her young life had taught. 



138 LINES. 



They told us of sweet melodies she sang, 
Beguiling thus full many a lonely hour, 

And our inquiring lips asked eagerly 

To hear those tones of more than earthly power. 



Softly and sweet ! My soul can ne'er forget 
How like a dream of loveliness they were. 

Hovering around my heart-strings with a spell, 
Hovering around my spirit like a prayer. 



She sang of Jesus : " He her shepherd was, 

Leading her gently through the pastures green, 

And by still waters, while between each ill 
His strone: rieht arm would ever intervene. 



" Through the dark valley she would fear no ill ; 
He would be near her, when her pilgrim feet 
Should tread where clinging shadows darkly throng. 
And make her triumph over death complete." 



Again she sang : and now another voice, 

So faint, and low, and sad, chimed gently in, 

And gazing round, a childish face we saw 
With pallid brow, and spiritually thin. 



LINES. 139 



Only two summers had this sufferer known, 

And his young head was waiting for its crown ; 

The limbs so shrunken, and the death-like cheek, 
Spoke of the agony and woe his own. 



And yet he sang, and smiled a patient smile; 

Our hearts were tiirilled, and we had eyes of tears, 
For ah ! we knew the hopelessness that clung, 

Like fatal blight, upon his childish years. 



Thanks ! thanks ! unnumbered thanks to those whose 
steps, , 

With Charity's sweet ministry doth go, 
To soothe the sufferer's pillow, to make glad 

The lonely heart, that no delight doth know. 



Yea, countless thanks from earth, and when they rise 
To the high glories of the upper world, 

.How jeweled will their crown of brightness be. 

How broad love's banner o'er their souls unfurled. 



THE LITTLE WHITE COFFIN. 



" It was a child, a coffined child, 
With Utile folded hnnds, 
Whose spirit had gone guarded home. 
By. radiant angel bands." 



I sat alone : and busy, thronging thoughts, 

Enveloped wnth its spell my secret soul, 

Weaving a fobric that did brightly blend 

The warp of life with an ideal roof, 

Revealing in its beauty fairy hues 

Whose tints gained fresher glory every hour. 

Busy, thronging thought ! that wandered down 

To find the key-note of my musing soul, 

And then did touch the chords deep hidden there 

With master hand, until the notes awoke 

To blessed strains that, lingering round my life. 

Form one grand diapason, such as ne'er 

Fell thrillingly upon a mortal's ear. 

It seems an echo of the breathings heard 

In Eden bowers, amid primeval bliss — 

A bright foreshadowing of that angel clime 

Where love knows no decay. 



THE LITTLE WHITE COFFIN. 141 

Sadly and slow 
The measured movement of* a funeral train 
Broke in upon my silence, and a hearse 
Passed gloomily and slow before my gaze — 
A dark, sad hearse, whose waving, sombre folds 
Draped heavily around some sleeper's rest. 
Questioning, I looked to see what form, 
Coffined for burial, lay silent there. 
Was it the weary one of lengthened years, 
Who long had waited for death's kindly hand 
To open Heaven's bright portals? 

Was it man. 
With many a hoping scheme and plotting plan, 
Ready to grasp ambition's tempting prize 
To his lurid heart, to find it vanity? 
Was it youth's glorious eye, forever sealed, 
Its voice of melody forever hushed? 
Had one, whose path was strewn with buds and flowers, 
Turned from their glowing beauty but to die? 
No! 

None of these slept 'neath that coffin's lid. 
It was a child whose happy feet had tripped 
Amid the flowers of three bright summers. 

Hearing 
Forever 'round its way the angels' hymn. 
And wooed at last by so divine a strain. 
To that blest world whose minstrelsy it is. 
The shining curls in their rich beauty lay 



142 THE LITTLE WHITE COFFIN. 

Around that placid brow so chill and fair, 
And the long lashes rested on the cheek 
With such a loving pressure, one might think 
'Twas childhood's rosy sleep in happy dreams. 
The parted lips looked as it' pleasant thoughts 
Would give them childish utterance — but, alas! 
For bleeding love there came no little word. 
From prattling — its murmurs were all done, 
Leaving but memories of their music tone. 
That echoed as in mockery of deep grief. 
The dimpled hand was folded, quiet now. 
Clasping Love's last sad gift of purest flowers ; 
And the still feet ! once pattering, restless feet, 
Peeped sadly from their rest in coffin bed. 
Little white coffin ! in thy close embrace 
Thou keep'st a radiant gem, whose flashing light 
Was home's own sunshine. 

Now, the darkened hearth 
Mourns its evanished brightness, and fond hearts 
Bewail the missing melody it breathed. 
Thrice happy child! thy spirit may not know 
Life's broken hopes, its sad and weary hours. 
Laid to thy rest, earth's angel ! but to be 
A brighter angel on yon radiant shore. 
On thy pure brow Time's finger may not trace 
His days and moments with their passing care. 
Sealed in thy beauty for the courts of Heaven, 
Expanding 'mid its elements divine. 



THE LITTLE WHITE COFFIN. 143 

Thrice happy child ! whose little feet have crossed 
O'er the dark waters of that mystic stream ; 
If here thy hours on golden pinions fled, 
And life encompassed thee with glowing light, 
What must it be amid that home of glory, 
Where not a cloud floats in its vast expanse. 
Where angel pinions flash their starry splendor 
Beneath the glances of our Father's eye ; 
Where countless thousands strike their golden harps, 
Wandering, enraptured, by Life's crystal stream. 
Oh, quiet sleeper! in Death's calm repose, 
What must thy young life's added glory be? 



THE FADING YEAR. 



Pilgrim ! with sandal'd feet and failing step, 

Thou 'rt passing from Time's measured shore away. 
With brow so furrowed and eheek so wan, 

That wears the ashen hue of dull decay. 
The sad and sombre livery of Death 

Doth fold about thee with enshrouding gloom ; 
Death ! whose sole birthright is a waiting grave — 

Whose only welcome is a voiceless tomb. 



Wearied and worn ! through every lengthened street 

Thou tak'st thy onward way, with vigor gone; 
The light hath fled from out thy flashing eye, 

The seal of silence steals thy lips upon ; 
The budding hopes that crowned thy natal hour 

AVith their pure freshness, 'round thee withered lie. 
And thy dim vision doth in vain essay 

To find their brightness in life's sombre skv. 



THE FADING YEAR. 145 

Thy spring-time beauty, when the violet's eye 

Looked in its quiet loveliness on earth; 
When the glad voice of rivulet and stream 

Breatlied, in its rippling melody and mirth, 
The brightness of thy summer's golden hours, 

Crowned with a starry radiance from on high, 
Have gone before thee ; and the angel truths 

Spread o'er the vale and hill, bloomed but to die. 



Yet, fading year, thou 'rt passing to a land 

Where Love's calm breeze will fan thy careworn brow; 
The land of memory whose fadeless light 

And shining stars look calmly, purely down. 
Glad spring comes there to meet thy step again, 

And summer flings its radiance 'round thy way; 
The gorgeous glory of the autumn time 

Shines not amid its beauty — dull decay. 



All the rich jewels Hope garners up. 

She bears with faltering step to that fair land, 
And their pure light will beam around thy way ; 

Thy spirit shall each sunny ray command. 
Love stores its treasures there — each look and tone 

Gain a new glory, while aifection's eye 
Takes there a softer light, and each fond word 

From lips beloved wins immortality. 

w 



146 THE FjiDING YEAR. 

Love wanders there, the victor over Death, 

Wresting the sleeper from the darksome tomb, 
He stands a conqueror in that peaceful clime ^ — 

Triumphant over loneliness and gloom. 
Lips, where have rested Death's fast closing seal, 

Murmur again their holy faith and trust. 
And radiant with the spirit's fadeless light. 

Are eyes that sleep beneath the mouldering dust. 



Pale year! tliy hand in coffin-bed hath hid 

The waving curls of many a shining head; 
Thou hast borne down full many a brow too pale — 

Full many a darkening pall thy hand hath spread. 
Quenched the glad light of many a kindred eye 

Whose starry gleams, kept by an angel's hand, 
Were gathered to eternal life on high — 

We meet them all in memory's changeless land. 



Rich, rich, the spirit's treasures thou dost bear — 

Sweet thoughts to lay upon a sacred shrine, 
Whera the fond heart its hoarded wealth will store. 

Where love doth purely glow — a spark divine. 
No dimning cloud shall mar the radiant light, 

xlnd angel hands shall roll back Lethe's wave ; 
For o'er the glory of each cherished gem 

Its dark, cold waters have no power to lave. 



THE FADING YEAR. 147 

5^ JjC ?j> JJC ^ ?ji ^ ^ ^ 

Departing year! even as a gallant ship, 

Which bears afar the loving from our side, 
Freighted with untold wealth for distant port, 

We gaze upon the waters wide. 
Thy course is onward — from the shores of Time 

Out on the sea of broad Infinity, 
Unto the shores eternal, where doth wait 

A harbored fleet of vanished years for thee. 

A mighty hand thy moorings soon will loose — 

We wait the signal from the Throne on high. 
And countless numbers as thou glid'st away 

Will look upon thee with a tearful eye; 
The wave shall not o'erwhelm thee, nor the winds 

Wreck with wild fury — for the form of light 
Which at thy prow in majesty doth stand. 

Hath power to hush the billow's fiercest might. 

Farewell! farewell! Old Year, we meet again; 

Thy moments all will come in mute array ; 
Thy fleeting months shall bring their record, too — 

The golden circlet of each passing day. 
Oh, Thou ! enthroned in radiance above, 

Who looks on erring man with mercy's eye, 
From each remembrance blot every trace 

Of the unfaithfulness thou dost descry. 



148 THE FADING YEAR. 

Forgive the love that in its fondness clings 

So closely to the changing things of earth; 
Untwine the heartstrings, that with mighty strength 

Gather o'er hopes but mortal in their birth. 
Teach us to live, that in each passing year 

That fleets so surely on, we may enshrine 
Full many a deed of holiest duty done — 

Full many a trace of love that marks us — Thine. 



THE INFIDEUS DAUGHTER. 



Dying! ah no, it could not be, 

His young and beauteous child 
Mjist not go down to death's embrace — 

His brain with grief was wild; 
To loose the murmurs of that voice, 

The love-light of that eye, 
To miss that glad and bounding step — 

Oh, no ! she must not die. 



He took her hand within his own, 

He smoothed her sunny hair, 
He looked upon that pure young brow, 

And saw Death coming there; 
And dark despair, with iron grasp. 

Clenched fast his stricken heart — 
That heart which in the holy trust 

Of Heaven had borne no part. 



150 THE INFIDEUS DAUGHTER. 

He wandered back o'er all the paths 

The well-beloved trod, 
He thouojht upon her mother's voice, 

All hushed beneath the sod. 
Upon her words of sad reproof. 

Breathed lovingly and mild ; 
Upon the little, pleading prayer 

She taught her gentle child, 



And came the memory — that his lips 

Had curled in bitter scorn, 
Whene'er unto the throne of Heaven 

That childish prayer was borne; 
The bitter memory of a time 

With anguish traces fraught. 
When the denial of the faith 

To her young lips were taught. 



She speaks : Oh ! how his eager soul 

Thirsts for each uttered Avord; 
Faint, faint, and stamped with agony, 

Each spoken thought was heard. 
Oh, Death ! roll back with mighty power 

Thy dark o'erwhelming wave, 
That he may win some cherished word 

From thee, thou waiting grave. 



THE INFIDELS DAUGHTER. 151 

"My Father, life is failing fast, 

My words come faint and slow, 
Death bears nie o'er the waters dark, 

Oh ! tell nie, e'er 1 go, 
Whose faith and trust shall now be mine 

Throughout the shaded vale? 
Whose shadows gather ■'round my path, 

My spirit to assail ? 



"My Mother taught my youthful lips 

The fervent, earnest prayer, 
To God, who dwells enthroned on high, 

For his protecting care ; 
She told me of a Savior's love, 

A Lord exalted high, 
Who, Prince and Mediator, lives 

Far, far beyond the sky. 



"And many a time, dear Father, too. 

With tears, on bended knee. 
She prayed that He would touch thy heart 

With power and purity. 
And bring thee safely home to Heaven, 

Where thy enraj)tured soul 
Should join the seraph song of love. 

While endless ages roll. 



152 THE INFIDEL'S DAUGHTER. 

" Oh ! tell me Father, e'er I go 

To slumber in the dust, 
Whose faith my soul shall lean upon, 

Whose God shall be my trust?" 
Then, 'mid the tears that fell like rain, 

Her passing spirit heard : 
Oh ! blest in Death, each welcome tone, 

Like balm, each precious word. 



My child, take thou thy mother's faith, 

'T will bless thee in thy need; 
My wild and vain imaginings 

Are but a broken reed. 
Take thou thy mother's God : His arm 

Shall shield thee through the vale; 
Take thou thy mother's God : His arm 

Shall over death prevail. 



"And when in yonder angel world. 

Thou standest side by side. 
With thy sweet Mother, plead with Him 

My lips have oft denied. 
That I may henceforth tread on earth 

The path thy mother trod. 
That her pure faith may be my guide. 

Her God and thine — my God." 



OUR DARLING, 



What shall we do when the Spring-time is here, 
Missing our darling, so cherished and dear? 
What shall we do as its breezes float by, 
Wanting the light of that calm azure eye? 
Shall we bend, all tearful^ above his home. 
With the voice of mourning and sadness come? 
Oh, no ! oh, no ! we will look on high, 
Where in untold glories his hours pass by. 



What shall we do when the summer, so bright, 
Brighteneth the valley and hill with its light? 
W^hat shall we do when all nature shall wear 
Her robes of beauty, her coronal fair, 
And we see no trace of his childish head? 
Shall we think of our darling as with the dead? 
Oh, no! oh, no! — as one passed away 
From a clouded dawn to eternal day. 



154 OUR DARLING. 

What shall we do in the rich autumn time, 
When the voices of earth shall in unison chime, 
When we hear not the shout and the echoing call 
Of him who was fairest and brightest of all ? 
Shall our hearts grow sad and our eyes grow dim, 
Tearful ever at memory of him? 
Oh, no ! oh, no ! we will ever look up, 
Thankful his lips may not press life's dark cup. 



What shall we do when the winter hours come. 

And we hear not his gladness 'round hearth and home? 

When we think of his joy that once floated out 

In the winter hours, and his gleeful shout 

Over the snowy and ice-bound street, 

The tireless bound of those little feet? 

Shall we mourn that so quiet they now do rest — 

Those boyish feet — on the earth's green breast? 



Never ! oh, never ! for do they not roam 
In their new-found joy in a fairer home ? 
Walking in beauty, where Life's glad stream 
Enshrineth the brightness of Heaven's own beam ? 
Never ! oh, never ! how blessed to go. 
Though the voice be hushed and the head lie low. 
It were brighter joy than our world can give, 
'Neath the radiant smile of the Lord to live. 



ABSENT. 



Morning comes with rosy light, — 
Sunlight streameth fair and bright,- 
Lit'ting up the hillside fair, 
Kissing flow'rets scattered there. 
Stealing o'er the lowly vale — 
Seeking out the woody dale — 
Vainly morning comes to me, 
One I love I do not see. 



Evening comes with shining stars, 
Not a cloud yon heaven mars ; 
Day, with babbling voice, is still — 
Quiet rests on vale and hill. 
Moonlight falls around my wav, 
O'er the stream its mild rays play; 
Vain the charms of eve to me. 
One I love I do not see. 



156 ABSENT. 



Voices of unshadowed glee 
Echo forth so merrily, 
Wondering that the clouds of care, 
Hang around a path so fair. 
Music brings her treasured tone, 
Melodies my soul hath known ; 
What is mirth and minstrelsy? 
One I love I do not see. 

Speed ye hours on wings of light, 
Realizing hopes so bright ; 
Bring again the welcome feet, 
O'er the busy, bustling street. 
Bring the lips, and cheek, and brow, 
Memory loves to think of now; 
Bring them back again to me. 
One I love I then shall see. 



FORGIVENESS. 



" Be to thy bitterest foe like the sissoo tree, which perfumes with its odors 
the axe which brings it level to the ground."— Persian Proverb. 



Perchance, oh, man ! ^hy brotlier's heart 

Keeps bitter thou<^hts of thee, 
And treasures up no kindly deed, — 

No pleasant memory. 
Forgive him every unjust thought, 

His spirit's depths hath moved; 
Forgive him all, and let thy truth 

In acts of love be j)roved. 

Perchance, for thee, thy brother's lip 

Breathes never tenderness, — 
Let gentle words from thine be known, 

Whose utterance will bless. 
Their echoes shall, like music tones. 

Encircle round thy life, — 
A sunlight in earth's darkened way — 

Calm peace amid its strife. 



158 FORGIVEXESS. 

Thy brother's eye may turn away. 

And look not on thy path, — 
Its radiance gi^ne, — its kindling flash, 

Proclaim the tempest's wrath. 
Oh I look not thou upon him thus. 

But let thine eyes' mild light 
Dispel the gleam of vengeful ire — 

The darkness of its night. 



Uplifted, too. may be his hand, 

To foil with crushing force. 
Oh ! fold thine own — in calm resolve 

High manhood's fearless course ; 
And seek to do some kindly deed, 

Some happiness to bring 
Around thy brother's life — thy heart's- 

Heaven's prompting offering. 



So shall thy days glide calmly on. 

Each bearing up to Heaven 
Some trace of noble duty done — 

Some bitter wrong forgiven. 
And these shall win for thee a rest 

On yonder peaceful shore, 
Where anger's tossing, surging wave, 

Shall vex thy soul no more. 



FORGIVENESS. 159 

Walk in His steps, whose gentle lips 

No erring man reviled ; — 
A God, who trod in earthly paths, 

So pure and undefiled; 
And whispered to the rising wave 

Of anger, — " Peace, be still !" 
Crowning thy brother's life with good, 

Who wishes thee but ill. 



LOVE'S WEALTH. 



" Nothing is trifling that Love consecrates." 



Thy pictured semblance — what a joy is mine, 

Fondly each cherished lineament to trace; 
To mark, with love, that look almost divine 

That rests with such a glory on thy face ! 
And as I gaze delighted, from those eyes 

Comes back an answering lovelight to mine own, 
While those red lips, on which proud beauty lies, 

Seem sweetly breathing thy familiar tone. 



This shining tress of hair on which I gaze 

Full oft, hath gleamed above thy glorious brow- 
From out its folds a voice of blissful days 

Steals — lingering around my spirit now. 
Oh ! many a precious hope is with it twined. 

And many a charm by blessed memory wove ; 
While 'mid its silken threads is fondly shrined 

A changeless trust — a holy, deathless love. 



LOVE'S WEALTH. KM 

This faded flower — 'twas culled by thine own hand — 

I mind me how its fragrance 'round me fell, 
So exquisite, I thought some fairy hand 

Was hovering o'er us with a cloudlike spell. 
I cannot lose the memory of a word 

That lingered on thy lips in that blest hour ; 
Full many a tender thought of thee is stirred, 

As now I look upon this treasured flower. 

This book was thine — I trace thy blessed name 

Inscribed by thy dear hand — of thee a part; 
The proudest wealth within the gift of fame 

Could wake no deeper thrill within my heart. 
Each tiny character a bright link seems, 

United all, they form a golden chain 
That binds within my heart its own bright dreams,. 

And I as gladly live them o'er again. 

Love's wealth, to the fond heart more precious far 

Than gems which sparkle in Golconda's mine, 
Or glow on beauty's brow like evening's star, 

Adding a glory to w'hat seems divine. 
A holy charm is 'round them — talismen they seem — 

Semblance, and curl, thy name, and faded flower; 
Thus ever shall their radiance o'er me gleam. 

Brighten and bless my path till Life's last hour. 

Cadiz, Ohio. 1849. 
11 



REPLY TO THE ''THREE GIFTS." 



Inscribed to my father. 



" The gift of Genius." I claim it not, 
With destiny dark, and sad, sad lot; 
Yet would that I, with its magic power. 
To Fame's proud eminence might tower. 
I would place my name on its records bright, 
To beam for aye with unclianging light. 

" The gift of Beauty." Say not 'tis mine, 
With its own brilliancy to shine. 
What is it? The eye is glad and bright, 
But Death can dim it in darkest night. 
What is it? The check may wear youth's bloom, 
But 'twill pale in the lone, unconscious tomb. 

" The gift of Goodness." Oh, radiant gem ! 
That glows in Heaven's own diadeni, — 
Clear and lustrous it, beams afar, 
With holy rays on Earth's wanderer. 
Be mine that bourne — to us be given, 
Goodness on Earth and bliss in Heaven. 



Cadiz, is it.. 



MY OHIO HOME. 



Inscribed to Mr. and Mrs. John A. Bingham. 



I sit in the twilight hushed and dim, 

And around me memories come 
Of the parted smile and the gentle words 

That brightened my happv home. 
I think of the many shining links, 

Perfecting Love's golden chain, 
And I sigh to think that long future years 

Will not see them all again. 



My own loved home ! dost thou wear the look 

Which was thine in days gone by? 
Bright were the hours within thy walls, — 

Fleetly they flitted by. 
Home's angel floated about its hearth. 

And with folded, happy wing, 
Diffused a presence of love, which made 

Life seem such a blessed thing. 



164 MY OHIO HOME. 

Thou seemest to me a thing of life, 

As a friend full well beloved, 
Whose. faith and love, through each vanished year, 

To my trusting heart was proved. 
And I think that thou hast a loving heart, — 

That over thy musing soul, 
The memory of happy, by-gone houfs. 

Sadly and silently roll. 



I cannot forget thee — enshrined for aye. 

In each tree, and shrub, and flower. 
Which waved and bloomed in that charmed spot 

In the long, bright summer's hour. 
I cannot forget each glancing smile. 

Which round thee like sunlight fell. 
Nor the wonted tones which greeted mine ear 

With their trusted and holy spell. 



Happy and blest be that household band, 

Which clusters around thy hearth, — 
Home's sweetest melodies echo for them 

Tones of immortal birth. 
Lingering around their paths on earth. 

To Life's last hour be they given, 
. Made holier far, as they float above. 

To God's own, their native Heaven. 



HENRY CLAY. 



"Thero is no death to such as thou, neither darlcnesa nor the shadow of 
Death: only such a bright fading as when the morning star fades in the golden 
dawn." 



A nation stands with tearful eyes and dim, 

Watching thy parting glories — lost to Earth! 
Listening, perchance, to hear the angels' hymn 

Triumphant as thou gained immortal birth. 
For well we deem our darkened earth hath given 

A radiance, which doth flood those portals fair, — 
A stream of brightness beams from yonder Heaven ; 

We gaze with awe and rapture — thou art there. 

Thine is no victory, O Death ! though on that brow 

The hush and stillness of that realm is set. 
No conquest thine, — although we listen now 

For silver tones we never can forget. 
It is not death to live in bliss above, — 

To wear a starry crown on that bright shore^ — 
To tune a golden liarp to songs of love, — 

To know of care, and toil, and grief, no more. 



166 HENRY CLAY. 

Oh! it is boundless never-ending life; 

All, all untold its inner glories are, — 
And in this chilling, dreary world of strife, 

Its peaceful rays beam on us from afar, — 
Soothing the soul when sorrows round us come, — 

A guiding star as o'er Life's sea we rove. 
Those beams like golden links have drawn thee home, 

Calling thee up to endless life and love. 

Thy name shall live forever — Henry Clay ! 

Its very sound bespeaks immortal birth ; 
Ages unheeded shall have passed away, 

Yet still its radiance shall illume the earth. 
Fond hearts and true will come in future years 

To look upon thy grave — a holy shrine; 
And they will hush their sorrows and their tears 

As 'round their paths its sacred light shall shine. 

"Tomb of the mighty dead" — 'tis hallowed ground, 

AVhere they have gently laid thee down to rest, — 
Sacred forever be the grassy mound, 

Rising above thy calm and pulseless breast. 
Pillowed in glory ! risen in glory too ! 

Thy home not there, — thy robes so white and fair, 
Not neath the coffin's lid they meet my view, 

In Heaven, I see them there, I see them there ! 

Peoria, July, 1S52. 



THE EVENING BEFORE MARRIAGE. 



My own sweet child, <;ome sit thee by my side — 

Thy wonted place in many an hour gone by ; 
Come, while Remembrance jxmrs her deatiiU ss tide, 

Whose living power will Time and Change dcty. 
And as I gaze into those undimmed eyes, 

Marking no shadow on that youthful bi-ow. 
I pray "Our Father" that for thee there lies 

A path as thornless as thou treadest now. 



And now I fancy thee a child once more, 

Coming to meet me with step light and Ire \ 
And in mine ear respondeth o'er and o'er 

The happy echo of thine artless glee. 
Ever unshadowed seemed thy young, bright life, — 

Love kept sweet watch and ward o'er thee, my child, 
Shielding thee from the world's unceasing strife, 

Pointing to Him, the pure and undefikd. 



\ 168 THE EVENING BEFORE MARRIAGE. 

I mind me, too, how ever at my knee 

Thou cam'st at eve to breath thy childhood's prayer, 
And how thy young lip glowed with fervency 

When asking God for His protecting care. 
Oh, seek Him still ! thy Guardian and Guide ; 

Remember Him amid each happy hour, — 
His arms will shelter, and His love provide 

A refuge when dark clouds of sorrow lower. 



A double vision fondly greets mine eye. 

As I invoke thy childhood's laughing hours, — 
Thine own sweet sister, on whose brow doth lie 

The placid sweetness born of Heaven's own power. 
My cherished child ! it is a joy to trace 

Those happy hours when by my side she grew ; 
Thrice blest is she — amid Life's every place. 

She dwells enshrined in loving hearts and true. 



To-morrow, love, and these young lips will breathe 

The deathless vow which never may be broken ; 
By the glad hopes that 'round thee brightly wreath, 

And present bliss, 1 know it fondly spoken. 
A noble heart hath showered its love on thee ; 

Green be your paths through Life's descending vale, 
A manly arm thy shield and stiy shall be. 

Amid Life's cares, which every path assail. 



THE EVENING BEFORE MARRIAGE. 169 

Our household love, — let it remembered be, 

Oh ! bind its memory in thy happy soul ; 
Strong be the spell — an amulet for thee, 

As days and years o'er that young head shall roll. 
In the dim future may each vanished hour 

Speak to thy heart — to comfort and to bless; 
Shedding around thy path a soothing power, 

To sweetly blend with Life's rich harmonies. 



Mine is no gift, my child, of fairy power — 

Gilding thy life wth visions strangely bright ; 
I only ask for thee, that every hour 

May take its radiance from the unstained light 
Which sheds its glory 'round our Father's throne, — 

And that when Life, with light and shade, is o'er, 
In that blest clime of love, thou and thine own 

May dwell with angels on an Eden shore. 



LINES. 



Writien upon receiving the picture of a child. Inscribed to Mrs. 1''. D. Hardin. 



Little Robbie Hardin ! 

Pure and sweet thy face, 
Shrined amid the ringlets 

Of enehantiug grace ; 
Winsome is thy beauty, 

Fair thy brow and cheek, 
And the lips — that many 

Quaint and strange things speak. 



Oh, the cunning gleaming 

Of the darling's eye! 
Hiding stores of wisdom 

In its witchery. 
What has it to tell me? 

For it seems to me. 
In its depths are hidden 

Some sweet mystery. 



LINES. 171 

Little Robbie Hardin ! . 

Would that I might call 
Blessings on the beauty 

Which enraptures all. 
Brightness should o'orshadow, 

Flowers be strewn for thee, — 
And amid life's future, 

Light thy burdens be. 



God will keep thee safely, 

In tliy earthly ways; 
He will weave the sunshine 

Through thy coming days. 
He will guide thy footsteps, — 

He will hold thy hand, 
Safe and angel-guarded 

'r/iou — at His command. 



Little Robbie Hardin ! 

I shall keep thee here. 
Shrined amid my treasures. 

With the fair and dear. 
AVhile mine eyes shall look on 

Earthly life and grace, 
They shall seek the beauty 

Of thy sweet, young face. 



RUTH TO NAOMI. 



"Strong affection 
Contends mth all things and overporaeih 
All things. As our hearts, our way is one, 
And may not be divided." 



I can not leave thee — well beloved ! 

Hath not dark days affection proved ? 

The memories clustering 'round my heart 

Appeal that we may never part. 

My arms around thy neck are twined, 

There shall my head its refuge find, 

For my pale lips would never tell 

To thee that sorrowing word — Farewell. 

Afar from thee ! the gentle Spring 
No gladness to my heart will bring, — 
Vainly the summer hours may wear 
A golden crown of radiance rare. 
Unheeded would the gorgeous dyes 
Of Autumn tower unto the skies. 
And nature only breathe for me 
A sad and mournful melody. 



RUTH TO NAOMI. 173 

I can not leave thee. I will go 

To share thy gladness and thy woe, — 

To Moab's land I turn not back, 

But keep with thee the pilgrim's track ; — 

And gleaming on our path afar, 

I see the light of Bethlehem's star ; 

Nor shall we faltering footsteps know 

As, angel-guarded, on we go. 



I will go with thee. 'Neath the skies 
That o'er Judea's plains arise, 
Our song of praise shall rise on high, 
And our Deliverer magnify. 
Where e'er thou dwellest I will dwell, 
The faith and trust of life to tell ; 
Thy people shall be mine — yea, more, 
Thv God alone will I adore. 



When thou art old, and each dear tone, 
With changing years has feeble grown. 
My hand shall soothe thee — warding still 
From thy loved form each earthly ill. 
My lips shall tell thee of that clime. 
The aim of Hope and Faith sublime. 
And point thy gently closing eye 
To deathless homes beyond the sky. 



174 RUTH TO NAOMI. 

And sweet shall be thy quiet rest, 
With folded hands above thy breast; 
As gently o'er thy placid brow 
I smoothe thy hair as often now 
With eyes of tears. My last fond look, 
Enclasped in memory's golden book 
Shall be, when 'neath the coffin's lid 
Thy cherished form, beloved, is hid. 



And there beside thee I will sleep — 
There will I spirit vigils keep, 
AVhen the winged shadow sweepeth by, 
And earth is closed to my sealed eye. 
Not served in this fleeting life — 
Not parted in death's bitter strife; 
For love is mightier far than he, — 
It claims an immortality. 



Entreat me not ! I could not brook 
From thy dear eyes a parting look ; 
I would not hear that wonted tone 
Take that of sorrow, oh, mine own! 
My place is here, at thy right hand 
My planted footsteps firmly stand; 
Nor life, nor death, may ever know 
The ebbing of affection's flow. 



THE SHUN AMITE' 8 REPLY. 



" I dwell among mine own people." 

" Wouldst thou dwell in palace fair, 
Where doth float the perfumed air, 
Where glad music tones is heard, 
Rivaling the woodland bird? 
There the day goes fleeting i)y, 

. 'Neath the bright and azure sky ; 
Eve calls forth the flashing light, 
Shedding radiance o'er the night." 



"No! ah, no! a palace home 
Cannot tempt my feet to roam ; 
In my humble home, yet fair. 
Fragrant breathings fill the air. 
Nature's untaught minstrelsy 
Pour their sweetest strains for me; 
While the evening's sentinel, 
Tales of higher glory tell." 



176 THE SHUN AMITE'S REPLY. 

" Wouldst thou rove by rippling streams 
With a voice like poets' dreams — 
Listening to the fountain's flow, 
Falling musical and low? 
Fairy flowers would deck thy way, 
Waking beauty day by day ; 
Foreign climes their odors sweet 
Shed around thy happy feet." 



" Unchecked streamlets near me flow, 
Sunlit flashings o'er them go, 
And my heart leaps high and free. 
As they sing so merrily. 
Round my path the violet comes. 
In its heart the wild bee hums: 
O'er the hill, and o'er the lea, 
Anffel voices come to me." 



"In the proudest niche of Fame, 
Wouldst thou gladly place thy name. 
There to beam with living power 
Through the long and future hour? 
Wouldst thou twine around thy brow 
Glory's luring radiant glow? 
Of its goblets wouldst thou sip, 
Leaving ashes on the lip ? " 



THE SHVN AMITE'S REPLY. 177 

"Fame's proud laurels tempt me not 
To forego my happy lot ; — 
Many a heart they rest upon, 
Mourns its light and life all gone. 
Glory's guerdon never gave 
Power from earthly ills to save;— 
Ne'er dispelled death's gathering mist, 
Nor to life the sealed eye kissed." 



"Hast thou wish for gleaming gold, 
Hoarded heaps and wealth untold ? 
Will it to thee blessings bring, 
Or a seared heart's oiFering? 
Tell me, for the power is mine. 
Given by a Hand Divine, — 
What fond wish hath often stole 
Quietly o'er thy pure soul ?" 



12 



" Not a wish for stores of gold 
Comes from out my spirit's fold ;— 
Countless were the offering, 
Hopes of Heaven it could not bring; 
Keep me from the fatal snare. 
Luring on with light so fair; 
Keep me from the palsied heart. 
Of those shining heaps a part." 



178 THE SHUN AMITE S REPLY. 

" Life to ni(> glides gently by, 
Resting 'neatli love's summer sky,— 
Here my heart hath placid rest, 
I am happy, riehly blest. 
'Neath the vine and 'neath the tree 
Roam I ever happily ; — 
In my Fatherland I dwell, 
With mine own, who love me well. 



LINES. 



Upon the departure of friends for Palestine. 



O'er ocean's dej)th.s the well-beloved 

Seek for Jiulea's land, 
'Neath the tall, waving olive tree, 

In joyfulness to stand. 
Where the blue skies bend lovingly 

O'er that thrice .sa(!red sjiot, 
Where Bethlehem's Babe took up life's march, 

And bore each pilgrim's lot. 



By Jordan's stream their feet will stand 

On that enchanted shore, 
Their spirits filled with joy and awe 

Shall worship and adore. 
Remembering Him — the Undefiled, — 

Who stood acknowledged there. 
While the baptismal waters gleamed 

Amid His golden hair. 



180 LINES. 

To thy deep shade, Gethseraane, 

With sadness they will go ; — 
The spot that knew His agony, 

His crushing weight of woe. 
Where angel forms in that dark hour 

Came with sweet minist'rings. 
And from the very throne of Heaven 

Bore comfort on her wings. 

And they who stand on Calvary — 

Yet not, dear Lord, as Thou, 
Bleeding and worn with earth's dark cross, 

Its anguish on Thy brow ; 
That weight of untold agony 

That pressed His spirit down, 
Hath placed upon man's fallen brow 

A seraph's radiant crown. 



SUB HUSSION. 



" What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." 



Wliy God hath hushed in life's glad dawn his merry, prat- 
tling voice, 

Whose echoes were but music tones that made the heart 
rejoice ; 

Why He hath stilled that rosy iip of pleasant melody, 

Our clouded vision, dim with tears, so plainly strives to 
see. 



Why hath He laid in quiet rest those boyish, bounding 

feet, 
That roamed amid their happiness o'er home, and hall, and 

street, — 
That blest our threshold with their fall, and pattering in 

their glee, — 
Our clouded vision, dim with tears, all vainly strives to 

see. 



182 SUBMISSION. 

Why He should call the graceful form our spirits loved so 

well, 
Within the lone, unanswering grave, all silently to dwell, 
And fold sweet childhood's robes away beneath the valley's 

clod. 
We know not, yet would meekly bow before the chastening 

rod. 

We know it was love's lesson, for a Father's watchful eye. 
That looketh on life's morning, and its coming doth descry, 
Saw conflicts stern awaiting him, and fierce, contentious 

foes, 
That would throng around his pathway e'er he should 

know its close. 

In love He turned those little feet so quietly away. 

To tread no more life's battle-field amid its fearful fray; 

He folded up the glancing sword within that soft, white 

hand, 
That he might never yield it to a foeman's stern command. 

Untarnished by a conflict was his glittering lance and 

spear, — 
Sure helmet never rested on a brow more fair and dear; 
He laid them all aside to wear the angel's crown of gold. 
And walketh in their shining ranks a lamb in Heaven's 

fold. 



SUBMISSION. 183 

A Father's hand hath done it; and when no longer li^ 

The shadow of his little grave upon our tearful eyes, 

Our lips shall call Him merciful, although grief secmeth 

now 
To sever many a heart-string — the spirit crushed to bow. 

Justice and Mercy linger near the radiance of His throne, 
The gentle ministry of love our Father's heart hath 

known ; 
Its effluence doth ever mark the little sparrow's fall — 
Its high and vast omnipotence is ever over all. 



Not willingly His guardian hand doth bid the tear-drops 

flow, 
Nor call our throbbing, human heart earth's bitterness to 

know ; 
He soothes the mourning spirit with a voice of holy calm, 
And sheds above its bleeding wounds a precious, healing 

balm. 

And we will trust Him as we tread life's every onward 

way, — 
We will look up with faith undimmed, yea, even though 

He slay — 
Relying on His watchful love; strong in His kingly might, 
Whate'er our loving Father does, He ever doeth right. 



184 SUBMISSION. 

And when we stand in joyfulness upon the eternal shore, 
Where wonted smiles lose not their light, — where Death 

comes nevermore ; 
Our spirits shall be crowned with love that wipes away all 

tears, 
Amid the fadeless splendor of the never-ending years. 



Then we will know why God hath called so early our fair 

child, 
Whose brow was wreathed with loveliness, whose lips each 

hour beguiled ; 
Then will we know the untold bliss of those in childhood's 

hours, 
Who go in undimmed beauty to dwell in Eden bowers. 



REUNION 



Of the Seventeonth Regiinciit, Illinois Volunteer Infantry, at Peoria, Oct. 21, 1868. 

Fair Illinois, with sunshine crowned, 

Dwelt with a sisterhood of States, 
All with one jeweled circlet bound. 

And strength, that Union's power creates. 
Her household fires glowed bright and clear 

When toil at eventide was done, 
And weary footsteps gathered near 

To homes, that made the many — one 



Peace, like a spirit, brooded o'er 

Her valleys and unconquered hills; 
O'er fields that gathered golden store ; 

O'er singing streams and flowing rills. 
Its white wings Heaven's own impress bore. 

Sweeping through sunlight's radiant glow, 
While the calm stars its beauty wore — 

Such beauty as the angels know. 



186 REUNION. 

Thus dwelt our peerless Illinois, 

Enshrined amid her prairies green, 
Where flowerets bloomed in r.uiet joy, 

And crowned her as glad Nature's queen ; 
When, with affright, her startled ear 

Heard pealing harshly from afar. 
Discordant notes, which, drawing near. 

Revealed tiie clarion peal of war. 



Then o'er the hillside and the vale. 

Rang out the patriot's thrilling cry, — 
" Our country's foes, its life assails ! 

To arms! to arms! to win or die." 
Brave, loyal hearts, grew stronger then. 

And good right hands were raised on high. 
While the firm lips of earnest men 

Vowed their life's blood for liberty. 



And far and near throughout the land 

Was heard the tramp of marching feet, — 
Each soul aglow with purpose grand 

The proud defiant foe to meet ; 
And, guided by the Almighty hand, — 

By love, forever good and wise, — 
Each patriot and 'united band 

Rose, like a fortress, to the skies. 



REUNION. 187 

Brave regiments went one by one, 

And bore aloft with deathless might, 
The fairest flag that e'er the sun 

Illumed with glorious light: 
Our own "red, white and blue" that sweeps 

O'er Northern lakes and Southern streams; 
That still its undimmed lustre keeps, 

While every star in beauty gleams. 



Then came, with many a banner bright, 

And bayonet of flashing steel — 
With eyes that shone with proudest light, 

Their heart's devotion to reveal — 
Our noble " Seventeenth," the pride 

And glory of a grateful land; 
Each consecrated and sanctified, 

A fearless and devoted band. 



Although beloved lips grew pale, 

With keenest misery and pain ; 
Though love poured forth its bitter wail 

From forms it might not sec again ; 
Though sobbing farewells thronged their way, 

And kindred hands clung to their own, 
And never, never had life's* day 

Such bitteruess and anguish known ; 



188 REUNION. 

Yet on they pressed, the brave, the true, 

Firmly resolved "to do or die;" 
No coward fear their footsteps knew, 

As on they marched to victory. 
Led by the gallant Ross, who wore 

A hero's sword, a patriot's heart. 
Their country's flag they proudly bore. 

To take, in its stern woes, their part. 



And many a battle-field shall keep 

Bright records of their noble deeds; 
Though fond remembrance there may weep. 

And memory's heart with anguish bleeds. 
Firmly they stood at " Fredericktown," 

Nor quailed they at "Fort Donaldson;" 
'Mid flame, and smoke, and rebel frown, 

They fiercely fought, — they proudly won. 



At " Shiloh," where the thick shot fell 

Like rain around their onward path, 
And cannon thundered out to tell 

How terrible their voice of wrath ; 
They stood like adamant — each heart 

Unterrified and undismayed; 
Nobly and well they bore their part, — 

Fearless and grand the charge they made. 



REUNION. 189 

At "Corinth," with unfaltering feet, 

They marched to combat with the foe ; 
"Inka" fails not to repeat 

The gallant deeds their record show ; 
"Lake Providence" keeps many a trace 

Of manly, fearless, daring, too; 
"Black River" gives them lofty place, 

Amid the loyal and the true. 



And high upon the roll of Fame 

Shall stand enshrined in fadeless light, 
The glowing signet of each name 

Tiiat bore a part in " Vicksburg's " fight; 
Memorials of unshrinking feet 

That stood where hostile armies wheeled. 
Until with triumph, all complete, 

They went victorious from the field. 



A voice from " Jackson/' clear and high, 

Rehearses many a manly deed, — 
Repeating many a memory 

Of valor in our country's need. 
" Monroe " hath grateful words to tell 

Of heroes, and the part they bore, 
When dead and dying 'round them fell, 

'Mid shot, and shell, and booming roar. 



190 REUNION. 

Thus did they fight — that valiant band, 

Holding their starry banner high, — 
No foe their prowess could withstand ! 

No fame such worth can dignify ! 
Earth claims no truer, nobler son, 

Than he who wrests from Freedom's foes 
The deadly weapons, one by one, 

Which they to her own life oppose. 



Here, to this olden camping ground. 

Once more the " Seventeenth" have come, 
By links of friendship firmly bound ; 

They leave again the hearth and home, 
Not for the crimson battle-field ; 

Not for war's tumult and alarm ; 
Their country's voice hath not appealed 

For aid, — rebellion to disarm. 



But to recount each danger hour, — 

To speak of many a battle won, — 
With memory's sweet and tender power 

To tell of comrades loved, yet gone. 
To vow anew their lives — their all ; 

To root disunion's treason out; 
To keep bright armor for the call. 

Insidious, traitor foes to rout. 



REUNION. vn 

God bless each manly heart that made 

His country's honor all his own ! 
God bless each hand whose shining blade 

Was to the enemy made known ! 
God guide and strengthen faithful feet 

That walked in danger's paths and blood ; 
Who stand in conquering light complete, — 

A nation's glorious brotherhood! 



And for the bravo and true who sleep 

'' The sleep that knows no waking hour," 
Affections holiest thoughts we keep, 

That linger with a changeless power. 
For home and country well they fought; 

For home and country proudly fell ; 
Amid life's paths can there be aught 

More glorious of man to tell ? 



Sleep they in home and native land ; 

Sleep they by shore or murmuring stream; 
In graves "by Southern breezes fanned," 

Or, by tlic sunset's fading gleam ; 
Where'er it be — unsullied wings 

Are folded gently o'er their rest, 
And liberty, all tearful, brings 

Her offerings for each patriot's breast. 



192 REUNION. 

The soldier's grave ! oh, let it be 

A place where holiest thoughts awake, — 
Where living lips breathe fervently 

A firmer faith for their dear sake; 
Where freemen's hands more strongly grasp 

The standard of their glorious land. 
And vow that their fast clinging clasp 

Shall not be loosed but by death's hand. 



Hushed is the hostile cannon's roar ! 

The clang and clash of battle steel — 
And o'er hill and vale no more 

Rings out war's shrilly clarion peal ; 
A glorious hymn ascends to Heaven, 

A cheerful anthem loud and high, — 
Immortal chords to thee are given, 

Triumphant words of liberty ! 



White dove of peace ! enfold our land. 

And leave us never, never more ; 
Thou ! with a mission high and grand, 

Teach us thy lessons o'er and o'er. 
Be thy pure banner wide unfurled, 

And guide us with thy loving sway, 
Until the nations of the world, 

lu time's fleet march all pass away. 



SHALL THE UNION BE SEVERED? 



Never, oh ! never ! 
While gently bends the azure sky 

O'er earth so lovingly and fair, 
And troops of clouds careering by. 

Their inner tinge of glory wear; 
While the gleaming sunsets win the soul 

Up to the fount whence brightness flows^ 
And shining stars their vigils keep, 

Changeless and calm in pure repose. 

Never, oh ! never ! 
While grand and high the towering trees 

Chant anthems 'mid the forests old, 
Waking entrancing melodies. 

Sweeter than minstrel ever told. 
Their aged arms were long held forth 

To woo the murmurs of the breeze — 
Harp strings, that taking nature's tone, 

Breathed forth her sweetest melodies. 



13 



194 SHALL THE UNION BE SEVERED f 

Never, oh ! never ! 
While the tall northern pine doth dwell 

In beauty by the blue lake's side, 
And the magnolia of the south 

Wears gracefully its robes of pride. 
The violet from its lowly home, ' \ 

Looks sadly up at the dark thought; 
The rose puts on a deeper dye, 

To hear Disunion's treason taught. 

Never, oh ! never ! 
By every noble warrior heart 

That ceased to throb where fierce shot fell ; 
By love's sweet mission unfulfilled, 

Where kindred lips spake no farewell; 
By all the unsoothed agony. 

Untold, unknown to all, save God; 
By lonely homes, and darkened hearth. 

And silent paths where dear feet trod. 

Never, oh ! never ! 
By those who standi — the brave, the true — 

To-day " where man doth die for man ; " 
Who face the foe, while fast and thick 

Fall missiles from the hostile van ; 
By hands that bear aloft the flag, 

Though Death has touched the manly brow ; 
By echoed shouts from victor lips. 

Whose tones of triumph greet us now. 



SHALL THE UNION BE SEVERED? 195 

Forbid it, Heaven ! 
And give thy blessing to our arms — 

Smile on us in proud victory; 
Give thine own strength unto the hands 

That for the right strive valiantly ; 
Disperse our foes — bring back again 

The white-winged dove of Peace to rest 
Upon our own unconquered hills, 

Beneath the flag we love the best. 

Then shall go up 
From North to South, from East to West, 

A glorious strain — a blended prayer, 
That 'neath the shelter of Thy love 

All may be kept with watchful care; 
That never more while time shall last. 

May dark Rebellion rear its crest, — 
That the glad sunlight and the stars, 

May find us undivided — blest! 



PRAY. 



"Beseech of Him 
Who giveth, upbraiding not." 

—Barton. 



Child ! with the fair and cloudless brow, 
The whisper of angels is 'round thee now; 
We gaze with joy on thy sunny face, 
In thine eyes' clear depth no grief we trace. 
Oh ! in the light of thy shadowless day, 
Gird for life's conflict — therefore, pray ! 



Youth ! I know life seemeth to thee 
A bright, yet unfolding mystery ; 
Few and happy have been thy years. 
Deeming this earth not a vale of tears. 
To thee there must come a darkened day, 
Now, in thy happiness, kneel and pray ! 



PR A Y. 197 

Manhood! with busy and scheming heart, 
Thy hopes will fail thee, thy dreams depart, 
Forsaicing thee in thy hours of need, 
Each earthly stay but a broken reed. 
Pause ere life's light hath faded away — 
Look thou to Heaven — yea, look and pray ! 

Thou ! with the faltering step and slow, 
Upon whose head re^ts a crown of snow, 
Doth thy feeble heart look up to the sky, 
Clinging to promises sealed on high? 
Down to the grave thou art wandering thy way, 
Nearer, still nearer — oh, watch and pray ! 

Prayer! 'Tis a sacred and holy thing, 
'Twill check the heart in each wandering, — 
A precious amulet mortals may wear. 
Relieving each sorrow, dispelling each care, 
It opens the gate to yon radiant shore — 
Pray thou on earth, thou shalt there adore. 



HY3IN FOR EASTER. 



Throw open wide, ye seraphs, 

The gates of pearl to-day,— 
Flash, wings of white, your brightness,' 

Where life's glad waters play ! 
We come in countless numbers. 

Our songs of praise to bring 
To our ascended Saviour, 

Whose risen power we sing. 



We walk through ranks of glory, 

Where dwell the cherubim ; 
We hear in grandest echoes, 

High Heaven's harmonious hymn ; 
We pass the saints and prophets, 

The holy ones of old ; 
Not there our spirits linger, — 

Not there our love is told. 



HYMN FOR EASTER. 199 

On, where the blessed Saviour 

Is crowned and glorified, 
Where He, Divine and Holy, 

Stands at the Father's side. 
And here we fondly linger. 

And here our praise we bring — 
Accept it, Thou who reigneth, 

Exalted Lord and King. 

We tell with happy voices, 

Thy praises and Thy love. 
Thy triumph over darkness, 

Thy glorious reign above, — 
The glad and free salvation, 

Brought by Thy wounded hands, 
Whose living fountain ever 

Thy blest memorial stands. 



THE PRAYER OF THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 



I come to Thee —Thou wilt hear 

The fond petition of a loving heart; 
Thou, who enthroned in majesty above, • 

The strength and succor of thy children art. 

I come to Tlice — and as I lowly kneel, 

"Would rend the veil that severs me from Thee; 

So if, perchance^ I touched Thy siiining robe, 
My hand of Faith would win this boon lor me. . 

Thy quivering starlight rests upon my brow, — 

The calmness of Thy Heaven doth touch my heart; 

And I have shut out from me all the world, 
All, all, save one, of life how dear a part. 

I cannot leave him. Father — he is linked 
So closely to this pleading soul of mine. 

I breathe to Thee no prayer without his name, 
But blend it even tenderly with Thine. 



THE PRAYER OF THE SOLDIERS WIFE. ,201 

Look down upon liiin from Thine own high home, — 
Hold him within Thy guardian loving arms; 

He standeth now upon the battle-field, 
Amid its fearful danger and alarms. 



His heart is brave, he knoweth not a fear, 
To deeds of valor he will hasten on — 

Go Thou before him, that the shadow dark 
May never rest his chosen path upon. 



Shelter his head so dear from every ill — 
' Keep back the crimson tide from his dark hair 
Ijet not a traitor hand with ruthless aim 
Mar the rich beauty that dotii linger there. 



Let not those footsteps fail amid the fray — 
Let not his faithful hand grow rigid there. 

Keep him! oh, keep him. Father, from all harm. 
Vouchsafe a blessed answer to my prayer. 



Let not those eyes grow dim when far away, 
Looking in vain for some beloved face; 

Let not those lips their latest accents tell 

Where Love's sweet ministry hath not a place. 



a)3 THE PRAYER OF THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 

I ask Thee, not that he may proudly win 
Upon the battle-field a glorious name. 

I ask Thee, not to wreathe his manly brow 
With the unfading laurel wreath of Fame. 



I only ask for life — his precious life — 
Content if Thou wilt give this boon to me ; 

All merciful ! I only ask that Thou 
His rock of refuge and defence will be. 



For this I offer up my pleading prayer: 

Hear me ! oh ! hear me in Thy peaceful Heaven, 

Where war's loud clang doth fold no silver wing, 
Where mortals stand unsinning and forgiven. 



Take him in Thine own arms; I leave him there, 
I give him up to no one, Lord, save Thee; 

My heart shall deem him sacred, and secure 
My faith shall ever firm and changeless be. 



HAIL TO THE HEROES. 



Lines written on tlie return of the 47ih Illinois and 81h Missouri Regiments. 



Hail to the Heroes! The brave and true; 
Blessings descend on their paths like dew; 
Who, strong in the pride of manhood's might, 
Went forth their Country's battles to fight. 
Around and above their onward way 
Shone the bright gleam of Liberty's ray, 
And proudly their banner waved afar, 
Bearing the glory of Stripe and Star. 



Faithful and firm on the crimson field, 
With a purpose holy and noble steeled, 
They stood 'mid the battle's din and shock, 
Calmly as stands the wave-dashed rock ; 
No craven fear subdues their souls, 
As fiercely the tide of stern strife rolls. 
Stand up in thy majesty, Illinois, 
They have won the glory time can not destroy. 



204 HAIL TO THE HEROES. 

Homeward they come — let each hand and heart 
In a warm, glad welcome bear a part, — 
Let uncounted blessings and thanks go round, 
For the soldiers' brows with laurels crowned. 
Hail to the heroes! each gallant one 
Who went at the call of the signal gun, — 
Glory shall )3lace on its towering height 
Their stainless record all fair and bright. 

And yet, as we number each brave band o'er, 
There are missing feet that return no more; 
And sadly we hush our tones of glee 
'■ As we linger with thee, oh ! memory. 
With chastened feelings our spirits tell 
How nobly they fought, how nobly they fell ; 
And with I'olded wings o'er their calm, sweet rest, 
Hero and martyr, we deem them blest. 



BETTER THAN OUR FEARS. 



Far better than our fears 

Art Thou, oh ! Lord of light, 
Who gives us blessed day 

As well as darkest night; 
Who calms the raging wave, 

And whispers, "Peace, be still/' 
Whoever gives us good 

Amid each bitter ill. 

" Far better than our fears, 
Lord ! hast Thou been for years." 

When sorrows come, and tears, 

And dark despair draws near; 
When clouds obscure the light. 

And sinking spirits fear; 
When Hope forsakes our hearts. 

And Misery comes nigh, 
Thy voice of Love we hear. 

And to Thy refuge fly. 

" Far better than our fears. 

Lord ! hast Thou been for years.'* 



206 BETTER THAN OUR FEARS. 

Oft, when the Angel dark, 

Upon our threshold stands, — 
When some beloved life 

Seems waiting his commands; 
Dear Lord ! Thou bringest back 

New light to brow and cheek, 
And joyfully we bow, 

Thy glorious praise to speak. 

" Far better than our fears. 
Lord ! hast thou been for years." 

Yea ! better far, dear Lord, 

Thou art than our own fears ; 
Thy goodness and Thy love 

Shall brighten coming years; 
And we will trust Thee still, 

Though clouds around us lie — 
Even through the valley dark. 

Thou wilt be ever nigh. 

And through Eternal years, 
Our souls shall know no fears. 



EASTER HYMN. 



Sound the tidings, earth and Heaven, — 

Wake each grand and lofty strain, — 
Tell it o'er in joyful measure, 

Chant the echoed words again : 
Jesus lives ! Our Lord is risen ! 

He hath triumphed o'er the grave. 
Jesus lives! in power Eternal, 

To redeem, exalt, and save. 



Tell it! oh, thou golden sunlight. 

Lighting up our rescued world; 
Stars of evening, wide proclaim it 

In the azure skies impearled. 
That He lives and reigns forever, — 

Our ascended Lord and King, — 
While our hearts and lips united 

Praise and true devotion bring. 



208 EASTER HYMN. 

Jesus Christ ! our Lord and Saviour, 

Holy art Thou, and divine, — 
Reigning over earth and Heaven, 

Love, and power, and greatness, Thine. 
All Thine agonies are ended, — 

Bitter trials come no more ; 
And with spirits fond and grateful. 

We may worship and adore. 

Hear! oh, hear our hymns of praises. 

Ever blessed Lord and God ! 
While we walk in life's dark mazes. 

Where Thy blessed feet have trod. 
In Thy home of radiant glory. 

Take the praise and love we bring, — . 
Praise that hails Thee, blessed Jesus, 

Mediator, — Saviour,— King. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 



May 30, 1S71. 



The heart of the nation is throbbing to-day 

With thoughts that are holy ; and memory takes 
From her casket bright jewels, and many a crown 

Of dazzling and radiant brightness makes. 
O'er hillsides of beauty, o'er valleys of green, 

Wherever our soldiers have sunk to their rest, 
She lingers with tokens and offerings of love — 

With fragrance and bloom for each pale sleeper's breast. 

Green, green, are the laurels she twines for each brow, — 

Their freshness eternal time never can fade ; 
And gently and lovingly with tender hands, 

Above each dear head is the rosy wreath laid. 
Over eyes that awake not — over calmly crossed hands — 

Over patriot hearts that know never a fear; 
Over feet that were brave, that grow weary no more. 

Falls purely and brightly her own crystal tear. 
U 



210 MEMORIAL DAY. 

She reads the fair record of days that are gone, 

When rang like a trumpet the shrill battle call ; 
When the flag of our Union by foes were assailed ; 

When they gave their proud manhood, their lives and 
their all. 
We know how we girded their bright armor on, 

Though love's was a weak and a tremulous hand ; 
But we gave them to God, with our blessing and faith, 

And we bade them with tears in His own strength to 
stand. 

They marched to the front; amid danger's dark hour 

They kept over treason their vigilant guard ; 
Their bayonets glistened beneath Southern skies. 

And as true as the stars was their watch and their ward, 
They died that the truths they ennobled might live; 

We yield them the triumph, though ours be the tears; 
We hail them to-day in the haven of peace — 

Before war's commotion, its woes and its fears. 

And while Earth her blossoms and fragrance doth bring - — 

While her anthems of melody float up on high — 
As she numbers the names of the noble and brave. 

The names of the chosen that never can die ; 
Doth not Heaven seem to echo the glorious strains, 

As they sweep like the billows, o'er each golden street? 
Do not angel voices rehearse the grand hymns. 

And the record of deeds that were God-like repeat? 



MEMORIAL DAY. 211 

Ah, yes ! and between that blest world and our own, 

The thin mystic veil seems to-day drawn aside; 
With fixed earnest vision we look on the ranks 

Of the noble and true who for liberty died. 
They stand on the hills, whose fair beauty ne'er fades; 

They stand in the sunlight, that never grows dim; 
They stand at the portals of jasper and gold 

To hear love's deep cadence — her requiem hymn. 

Haste ! haste ! to Heaven's battlements, martyred and 
crowned ; 

Haste over the radiant plains — o'er the streets; 
Look down from your glory, and hear ye the vow 

Which a nation, devoted and loyal, repeats. 
The vow to bear upward, through Time's onward march, 

The flag you have honored, the flag of the free; 
To guard it so fondly with Love's jealous care — 

To plant its rare splendor o'er land and o'er sea. 

Look lovingly down from your calm home above, 

Your foes are all vanquished, your victories won; 
The land you have saved is repeating to-day 

Your deeds of high valor and duties well done. 
Your names are the burden of anthem and song — 

They float like a blessing upon the pure air; 
Tliey are spoken with tears by the dear household hearth — 

The sweet inspiration of praise and of prayer. 



212 MEMORIAL DAY. 

Fairer than fragrance and bloom which we bring 

To brighten with beauty each Patriot's grave, 
Is the deathless remembrance we keep of the deeds 

Whose might and whose truth our blest Union could 
save; 
The deeds which will live, when Earth's voices are still, 

When its harps are unstrung, and all silent its songs — 
The deeds which the angel records upon high. 

And Heaven, through ages eternal, prolongs. 



Brave soldiers and heroes who stand here to-day. 

On whose brows the fair sunlight in beauty still shines. 
Your country remembers your faith and your love. 

And with pride and devotion your valor enshrines. 
She hath not forgotten the red fields of war, 

Where you stood with your comrades unflinchiug and 
true; 
Where you looked on the face of the foeman, and won 

The grandest of triumphs the world ever knew. 



The structure of Liberty framed by our sires 

Your hands held aloft above treason's dark wave. 

Till it stood on the firm rock of Freedom secure, 
Unmoved, though fierce breakers around it did rave. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 213 

Your country is grateful, she cannot forget — 

And she lays her proud homage to-day at your feet. 

She would frown on the lips that would honor you not, 
Nor the greatness of patriot manhood respect. 

Oh ! ye loyal who live, oh ! ye faithful who died — 

Your names are enduring, ennobled and blest. 
We crown you anew with fresh chaplets of green, 

Whether heart thrills with life, or in calm shimbers rest. 
Time its impress may leave on all things that are fair, — 

Love may weep o'er the treasures it ruthlessly mars, 
But Remembrance shall hallow the gallant and brave, 

AVho kept in their splendor the stripes and the stars. 



MONDAY MORNING. 



The Sabbath hours have passed away, 

So stilly, pure, and calm, 
With comfort for the burdened heart, 

And for the stricken, balm ; 
Gone are its hours of sunshine — gone 

Its moments of repose ; 
Its morning and its evening tune; 

Its starry midnight's close. 

The silvery chimes are silent now, 

Which called the earth to prayer ; 
The feet of countless worshippers 

No longer linger there. 
The aisles are quiet where the steps 

With thankfnl measure trod. 
Walking in " Wisdom's pleasant ways," 

To serve and honor God. 



MONDAY MORNING. 215 

The glorious strains that echoed there, 

Like incense rising high, 
Are luished, — and tones of pleading Faith, 

Whose memory can not die ; 
"Forms — that may never more return ; 

Eyes — that no lustre lack. 
Perchance have passed away, where time 

May never bring them back. 



And now we take our place again 

Upon life's busy way, 
Where sounds of commerce and of toil 

Re-echo through the day. 
The burdens which our hands laid down 

When the sweet Sabbath came, 
Are taken uj), but lighter seem, 

And greater efforts claim. 



Onward throughout each coming day, 

With willing hands and feet, 
We weave our duties in our lives, 

The fabric to complete ; — 
That like a mantle covers us 

With many a graceful fold, 
Tinged with the hues of faith and hope. 

And Love's refining gold. 



216 MONDAY MORNING. 

Oh ! for the grace to walk aright 

Throughout these busy days ; 
To mingle with our earthly thoughts 

The strains of prayer and praise. 
To see with faith the gates of Heaven, 

Where toil and care shall end, — 
And peace with perfect blessedness. 

Our pathways shall attend. 



A MEED OF PRAISE. 



Inscribed to ihc Yoko Fellows of Calvary Mission Church. 



White were the fields in harvest time, 

And ripened grain was bending low, — 
'Laden with promise for the hours 

When it the reaper's hand should know. 
The wind swept o'er it, and it seemed 

Like moving billows on the sea. 
Which took the shadows of the clouds 

That left their gorgeous tracery. 



When forth there came witVi earnest souls, 

A faithful and devoted band, 
Who gathered up the golden sheaves. 

And bound them for the Master's hand. 
They spared no labor — feared no toil, 

But looked with hoping, trusting eyes 
On the abundance, — where it lay 

Around their paths in fairest guise. 



218 A MEED OF PRAISE. 

«^- 
Even so, with purpose grand and high, 

A brotherhood of Christians came, — 
Strong in the faith Religion gives, — 

Strong in the power of Jesus' name. 
They looked upon the wandering ones. 

Bound in strong chains inwrought by sin, 
And love and pity moved their hearts 

To wisdom's ways those souls to win. 



When the glad morning filled the world 

With beauty and reflected light, 
And when the earth was covered o'er 

With the mysterious pall of night; 
In the high hour of noontide, too, 

'Mid soundis of commerce and of toil, 
They sought the erring — sought with love 

The power of Satan to despoil. 



They called the wanderer to the place 

Where God's own messengers were heard,- 
Where free and open were the doors. 

And sweet and kindly was each word ; 
Where strains of lofty praise arose. 

And tones of earnest, pleading prayer, 
For the direction of the Lord, — 

For His untiring, watchful care. 



A MEED OF PRAISE. 219 

Lips that had known no gentle tones, 

Unused to peace and tenderness, 
Learned the ghid strains of Sabbath hymns, 

And their own weakness to confess. 
Eyes whose dull bound had been the world, 

Now gazed above with new-found trust, 
To see our God, all merciful, 

A Mediator faithful — just. 



Were ever sheaves more gladly brought 

In meekness to the Master's feet? 
Did voices ever, day by day. 

More gratefully their pmise repeat. 
Than those of this devoted band, 

AVho for the Saviour's glory served, — 
Who from the consecrated path 

Of sternest duty never swerved? 



Yoke Fellows ! sacred is the trust 

Committed to your watchful care; 
Sacred the mission you have reared, 

Upheld by never-ceasing prayer. 
"Hope" gleams afar with blessed light, 

And " Faith " sheds bright and cheering rays, 
While Pleasant Hill repeats the strains 

Of echoed prayer and glorious praise. 



220 A MEED OF PRAISE. 

Though difficulties meet your paths, — 

Though clouds obscure, and light seems lost, 
Press forward in your Master's strength, — 

Count not the labor, nor the cost. 
A work is yours — a noble work ; 

To your own hands this trust is given : 
The privilege to lead stray souls 

Back to the light of God's own Heaven. 



Gird on your armor with new strength, 

Salvation's helmet, Faith's own shield, 
The breast-plate of true righteousness, 

That will not to a foeman yield. 
Put on the truth — the spirit's sword ; 

Protect your feet with gospel peace ; 
So shall your courage and your zeal 

In high endeavor never cease. 



So shall you stand amid the world, 

Serene and safe through all its storms, — 
Clad in the panoply of light 

That such a certain safe-guard forms; 
So shall you stand until the hour 

When life is ended — conflicts done; 
You hold the palms of victory. 

And find your crown of glory won. 



TO MISS KATIE E. MgKENZIE. 



On her wedding-day. 



Affection's hand hath twined for thee 

The wreath of orange blossoms fair, 
And gracefully its buds will rest 

Amid the braids of thy dark hair. 
In their own dialect they tell 

The brightness of Love's golden chain, 
That waits thy wearing, when thy lips 

Shall breath in solemn vows its strain. 



Another wreath I bring thee, sweet friend, 

To place upon thy gentle brow. 
Radiant with bloom, with fragrance rich — 

I gaze upon its beauty now. 
I culled from it from the paths of life, 

Where thou didst walk — wherever fell 
The effluence of the gracious soul 

That dwelt about thee like a spell. 



222 TO MISS KATE E. McKENZIE. 

The flowers of Faith and Truth are there- 
of Gentleness, and Hope, and Love, 

Knowledge and Patience, — Tenderness 
That takes its perfume from above ; 

And each in low, sweet whisper tells 
Of life and its best duties done, — 

And thus thy glorious womanhood 
This crown of loveliness hast won. 



I place it on thy head — no hand 

Of mortal power can pluck it thence ; 
There shall it ever brightly bloom, — 

There its own fragrancy dispense. 
And well I know that round thy way 

Still shall be gathered fairest flowers — 
Thine own blest heritage to take 

New lustre from thy future hours. 



Farewell ! farewell ! I would not speak 

The words that take so sad a tone, — 
They seem a discord in the strain 

Of harmony our lives have known. 
I breathe them with regretful soul, — 

I breathe them low and tenderly. 
And ask our Father for His love 

And ffuardian care for thine and thee. 



HAST THOU FORGOTTEN f 



Hast thou forgotten her whose smile 

Fell brightly round thy home? 
Is there no wonted lingering tone, 

Across thy soul to come? 
Oh ! tell me if the joyous past 

Is, as a Pleiad, gone 
From the clear blue of memory's heaven. 

So fair to gaze upon. 

Ah no ! ah no ! though other smiles 

Are shed around thee now ; 
Although thy lips again have breathed 

The sacred marriage vow. 
Still lingers fondly at thy side 

The early loved and lost ; 
Her memory as a beacon light, 

When on life's billows tossed. 



THE BAPTI8M. 



September's sky hung lovingly o'er earth, 
And the fresh sunlight brightened hill and vale ; 
The glancing waters dreamily swept by, 
Reflecting in their depths the fleecy cloud ; 
And the glad voice of nature had a lull 
As though amid the Sabbath's holy hours 
It, too, would worship with a silent awe. 
The calm, still Sabbath ! when earth's toiling one 
Bringeth before the Throne his added thanks, 
For that one golden link in life's dull chain. 
That binds him hearer Heaven as he forgets 
For one short day life's carking care and toil — 
The calm still Sabbath ! with its silvery tones 
That call to prayer. 

Unto the house of God 

A throng was tending, and my eager feet 
Took up the march and wandered gladly on. 
Bright, hurrying childhood, and the measured step 
All, wave-like, swept in willing unison. 



THE BAPTISM. 225 

I .<^tooc] upon tlie threshold — what a sight 
Of rare, unsullied beauty met me there. 
There stood the man of God in vestments white, 
And there before him, in rich loveliness, 
Two fairy children met my wondering eyes, — 
Cherubs in white array, methought they were, — 
And sure am I. if God should call them up 
To Avear the angels' robe of spotless white. 
No lovelier look could rest upon their brows 
Than that they wore on that calm Sabbath morn. 
Twin-born and beautiful ! how the admiring eye 
Drank in their sweetness, as the shining drops 
Kissed with their lucid brightness each fair brow. 
Whereon was traced the seal of God's own love — 
The seal that stamped them consecrate of Him. 
Full long I gazed, — and from my inmost soul 
Came an unspoken wish that those young lives 
Might pass unsullied through this troublous world. 
And fade into the radiant light of Heaven. 
Yea, keep them. Father, 'neath thy watchful eye, 
Safe for the Better Land, — let no rude blast 
Assail them as they walk together on ; 
Be near them when the pure angelic heart 
Of infancy is theirs ; and when glad youth 
Hath told its promise on each fair young brow. 
Keep fresh their manhood's soul with gentle deeds,. 
And if old age may write his snowy trace 

75 



226 THE BAPTISM. 

On each bright head, may they look back 
Upon a life-time marked with blessedness, 
And pass to joys that mortals may not know. 

^ * * * * jl< * 

From the baptismal fount they turned away, 
And when mine eye had lost each little form. 
My spirit followed with unuttered prayer 
For blessings o%their way. 

Full many a time 
The vision comes before me — memory keeps 
Revealings such as this in casket fair, — 
Full oft she lays upon her sacred shrine 
The semblance of that fair and sinless twain, — 
The lovely vision of that Sabbath morn. 



WHAT HATH THE FUTURE f 



What hath the future for the gladdened eye? 

Full many a spring time, with its robe of green 
Full many a radiant hour of summer's store 

With fragrant bloom and hues of fairy sheen ? 
Or will Death's sleep soon seal the quiet lid, 

Veiling the beauty of earth and sky, 
Though the glad seasons come and go, 

And nature's harmonies steal softly by? 

W^hat hath the future for the breathing lip? 

The gentle power some heart to cheer and bless 
With droppings from affection's gushing fount, 

With many a tone of Love's own tenderness? 
Or in pale rest, in rigid calm repose, 

A voiceless home amid the grave's dark night. 
Where wonted tones, and kind and gentle words 

Shall live alone in memory's magic light? 



228 WHAT HATH THE FUTURE? 

What hath the future for the busy hand ? 

Such deeds of h)ve as cheer the weary heart, 
The aching brow to soothe, the grief to calm, 

Which of some life hath been so large a part? 
Or quietude, — above the pulseless heart 

So gently folded, — with life's mission o'er; 
To know Love's clasp fall silently away, — 

To grasp life's unreality no more? 



What hath the future for the bounding heart? 

Some blessed cheering hope, some waking dream, 
The glancing back of kindred, loving thoughts. 

Which brightens earth as if with heaven's gleam? 
Will its deep feelings meet no warm response. 

Its countless treasures carelessly flung back? 
Or shall its throbbings soon have ceased to beat 

Their measured round upon life's daily track? 



We may not know. There hangs a mystic veil 

Between our vision and the future hour, — 
Held there in mercy by our Father's hand, 

W^ithdrawn alone by his mysterious power. 
Let us press onward, clinging to His side 

Who guides us gently o'er life's every way ; 
Rich in the countless mercies of each hour. 

Content with the revealings of to-day. 



WHAT HATH THE FUTURE? 229 

And may the future have for every eve 

Visions of beauty by life's crystal stream; 
For everv brow a coronet of liffht. 

Whose flashing brig;htness evermore shall beam ; 
For every lip the high triumphant strain, 

Whose echoes hush the wave and cheer the vale — 
The spirit's victor anthem, sounding high 

When the frail bonds of earth and sense shall fail. 

And when the labors of each hand are done, — 

When the heart-throbbings of this life are o'er, 
And in the coming future we must place 

Our pilgrim feet upon the unknown shore; 
In blest fruition of the hope of heaven. 

May we triumphant give all praise and power 
To Him who reigns in majesty supren;e, 

And with omniscient eye scans everv liour. 



THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 



The tongue of Time with silvery voice tolled Ten, 
When a worn wanderer sought his couch to die ; 
No summer flowers sweet fragrance breathed around, 
No gentle hand his dying pillow soothed ; — 
December's sky looked coldly, clearly down, 
And, save the shining stars that watched above. 
He was alone. 

The sad and moaning wind 
Breathed low its requiem tone, discordant oft 
With many notes that floated on the air, 
And seemed a dying knell to his dull ear. 
He knew full well that in that echoed joy 
His spirit had no part — for on his brow 
The thin gray locks waved in the frosty air, 
And the dull eye reflected back no light. 
I loved him well — a dear, familiar friend, 
Whose hand had flung rich blessings on my path. 
And given a rosy tint to passing hours, 



THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 231 

Which seemed from Heaven to take their beauty. 

I hived him well ! for in his vanished time 

He came unto my heart, and on its inner shrine 

Laid stores of glorious wealth, on which my soul 

Shall bend forever; — high and glittering hopes, 

Whose radiance, as it brightens day by day, 

Speaks of a future when each starry gleam 

Shall gain new brightness from the world of light. 

From a glad throng I fled to soothe his woe, — 

Unheeding even the witchery of song, 

And the fair forms that floated gaily by. 

Slowly, yet sure, the sands of life ebbed out, — 

The purple stream grew chill in every vein ; 

Yet, e'er his little all of life was o'er, 

He breathed for me his farewell strain to (orth. 

I go, I go, to the spirit band. 
They beckon me on with spectre hand ; 
O'er the mystic river my bark will glide. 
Death bears me over the swelling tide, — 
I hear the plash of his coming oar, 
Fleetly I'll speed to yon far-off" shore. 

I know no terror, — nor would I stay 
When the pure and lovely have passed away ; 
I would not linger in winter's gloom, 
That shrouds so deeply in icy tomb 
The fragrance that o'er my spirit fell, — 
The brightness and beauty I loved so well. 



232 THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 

I think of my spring-time fresh and green, 
Bright glanced the sun on the gladsome scene ; 
I think of my summer's golden hours, 
With the gentle breeze, and the buds, and the flowers ; 
And down my cheek, like the sobbing rain, 
Flow tears — for they never may come again. 

The greenwood's glory, alas! is o'er; 
The rippling streamlet is heard no more; 
The bird of the woodland hath ceased its song, 
And the joyous feet of the flowery throng 
That peopled with beauty the hill and plain, 
May never, oh ! never, return again. 

Voices are hushed, high hearts are cold, 
That hailed my coming — my triumph told; 
Thev have o-one before me — their gentle tone 
Comes not to soothe my spirit's moan ; 
They have found a home with the quiet dead — 
Light press the turf on each sleeper's head. 

Farewell! Farewell! — I am wafted along — 

Nearer, still nearer, yon shadowy throng; 

I crave a boon, — that my life shall be 

A holy and cherished memory ; 

Upon each heart I would bind the spell 

Of blest Remembrance — Farewell ! farewell I 



THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 233 

Tlie chimes pealed twelve — Death's icy seal was placed 

Upon the furrowed brow and faded cheek ; 

Upon the lip a tinge of life-like glow. 

He passed as clouds of sunset gently fade 

Into night's chilly darkness; — as the star — 

The missing Pleiad — that once proudly dwelt 

Among the radiant host in yonder sky. 

I could not check the tribute of my tears 

When the dull clod was heaped upon his breast, 

And with a chastened heart I turned my steps 

From his low tomb. 



Lo ! what a joyous strain 
Breaks on mine ear! — as though the morning stars 
Awoke again their glad primeval strain 
And filled the earth with glory and with light. 
The New Year's Song! who at life's threshold stands 
To gaze upon the new and untried way. 
Not long he lingered — for the laughing hours 
Did win him onward, and the glowing buds 
In Hope's young hands seemed bursting into flowers ; 
Upon his brow fair Beauty's signet gleamed, 
And as he woke his new and untried lyre, 
Attuned to notes of promise, echoes fell 
Like showers of melody around our feet. 



234 THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 

I come, I come to the joyous earth, — 

I come 'mid the song of gladness and mirth ; 

I have heard the echoing triumph strain 

As it floated to meet me o'er hill and plain. 

Though my way be strewn as a conqueror's path, 

No trace is mine of his warring wrath. 

I come with blessings — yea! even now. 
Though winter waves from the mountain's brow 
An icy sceptre — I bring glad mirth 
To echo round the household hearth. 
Even the aged one with steps so slow, 
Will marvel much how long the hours go. 

I have hues of the brightest green for Spring ; 

On Summer a fragrance and sheen I'll fling. 

I've a gorgeous wreath for proud Autumn's head, 

^Twill be rare and richly garlanded, — 

A Tyrian robe for his fading form. 

To shield him well from the Winter's storm. 

For the rill I'm bringing a low sweet song. 

Merry 'twill be as it glides along, 

Where it casts a glance with shimmering eye. 

To the sunny spots where the violets lie — 

The rival of many a shining star, 

That lovingly looks from its home afar. 



THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 235 

Coming along in my joyous train, 
Are the waving harvests of golden grain, 
And countless treasures of fruit and flowers. 
And beauty to garnish the forest bowers, 
Where at fall of eve and blush of morn, 
Shall blithely echo the hunter's horn. 

I will call from the wide and tossing main 
The sailor-boy to his home again. 
I will murmur low in his listening ear 
The voices of Home, that he loved to hear. 
I will whisper low of a mother's prayer. 
Breathed for her rover so often there. 

I will come to the weary bed of pain, 
With Health's own vigor and bloom again. 
For the sorrowful spirit I bring a balm, 
A holy trust, and a soothing calm. 
Peace for the mourner, upon whose brow 
The traces of grief are deepening now. 

The widow's heart I will strengthen and cheer — 
I will dry at its fountain the bitter tear. 
The orphan's path I will guide and bless 
With a gleam of the olden tenderness. 
Light shall spring up in the darkened way. 
Bringing the vision of Hope's bright day. 



236 THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 

And many a floweret of Hope is mine, 
Around earth's path in beauty to twine. 
Many a dream of Love do I bring 
O'er the weakened heart in beauty to fling, — 
Kindly purposes of welcoming hands, 
And joyous greetings of household bands. 

The flag of our country shall wave afar, — 
On high shall glitter each golden star; 
Its folds shall o'ershadow th-e land and the sea, 
While our noble hills unconquered shall be. 
No land so fair 'neath the sky's blue dome 
As America's soil — the freeman's home. 

His strain was over — fraught with hope his song; 
Of coming change and death he^id not tell. 
And not one word of the bright, joyous throng 
Who welcomed him — .yet, shall not say farewell. 
His young, unsullied life had never known 
The gentle chastening of fond memory's power. 
And all around seemed radiant with the light — 
The sunny light of that unshadowed hour. 
'T were well, — for all too soon some hearts will know 
The bitterness and woe of severed ties — 
When the mute lips give back no tone to bless, 
And low the sunny head in slumber lies. 



THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 

Kind Patrons. May its choicest gifts be shed 

In rich profusion o'er each heart and home, — 
While gently o'er each soul, like angel wings. 

Sweet memories of the vanished year shall come. 
Were Hope but prophecy, o'er every head 

Should fall, as falls the summer's cheering dew, 
Life's choicest blessings — long and happy hours, 

That from the upper glory take their hue. 
No happy home should then be desolate, — 

Love's myrtle for the cypress we would twine, 
While every tear that fell in Fifty-Eight 

Should change to smiles in happy Fifty-Nine, 



LET ME KISS HIM FOR HIS MOTHER. 



In a city crowded vast, 
Where a throng went hurrying past, 
Lay a youth with silent heart, . 
Bearing in that life no part; 
Lips, with no fond pressure warm, 
Rigid grown amid Death's storm ; 
Cheeks so white, and marble brow, 
Wearing Azrael's shadow now. 

Low he lies in coffin bed, 
While around his youthful head 
Lay rich locks of dark-brown hair. 
Shining as in mockery there. 
Those still feet shall nevermore 
Tread upon his native shore, — 
Nor that voice, in happy mirth, 
Echo round his father's hearth. 



'LET ME KISS HIM FOR HIS MOTHER. 239 

Low he lies — yet round that rest 
Come not those who love him best; 
No fond mother weeps the son 
With life's mission scarce begun ; 
No brave brother near him stands, 
Sobbing for those folded hands. 
Far away his sister's smile, — 
Far o'er many a weary mile. 



Strangers gaze upon that head, 
Resting in its shrouded bed ; 
Thinking of his lonely fate — 
Of his death so dccolate; 
Wondering, as they smooth his hair. 
Who his friends and kindred were. 
Where his home and hearth — oh! where. 
Loving ones that waited there. 



Ere that sleeper's face was hid 
'Neath the pressing coffin lid, 
Came a woman's bowing form, 
Came a woman's heart — ^o warm 
Murmuring, '< Let me kiss that face 
For his mother — kiss the place 
Her fond lips so oft hath pressed, 
When he slept in rosy rest. 



240 LET ME KISS HIM FOR HIS MOTHER. 

" He hath none, now like his past, 
Mournfully to look their last; 
Those who love him — far away, 
Dream not where he sleeps to-day. 
Let me kiss that pale, cold brow, 
For his waiting mother, now. 
Who no more those lips may press 
With unchanging tenderness." 



Tears fell brightly o'er each cheek, 
Nature's sympathies to speak; 
Spirit offerings, they were shed 
Stilly o'er that sleeper's head. 
Tender thoughts awoke that day 
For his mother, far away. 
Whose fond eyes will look in vain 
For his vanished smile again. 



Angel prompted ! blessed thou ! 

Who thus kissed that stranger brow; 

Gentle mercies on thy head. 

Friend unto the lonely dead. 

When stern Death hath hushed thy heart. 

That in love bore noble part, 

O'er the stars and o'er the sky. 

Be thy home in memories high. 



DYING. 



Father ! hear our suppliant cry, 
Mark our heart's deep agony; 
Thou ! who dvvellest where angels are, 
Listen to our fervent prayer. 
O'er our mourning, stricken souls. 
Fast the wave of sorrow rolls ; 
For Death's shadow floateth near. 
Hovering o'er that form so dear. 

Still she lives, — while pallid lips 
Whisper low of life's eclipse ; 
Sombre wing is sweeping now 
O'er the beauteous cheek and brow ; 
Gently doth the eyelid fall. 
Hiding, as with funeral pall, 
Life, and light, and sunny ray, — 
Passed for aye on earth away. 
16 



242 DYING. 

Father ! fold Death's pinion up, 
Fill again life sparkling cup ; 
What will be earth's fairest scene, — 
Spring's green robe and summer's sheen ; 
What will be the bud and flower, — 
What the happy, joyous hour, — 
What the sunlight, fresh and fair, 
If that presence is not there ? 



If that beloved brow was hid 

Beneath the pressing coffin-lid, 

And those dear hands grown still and cold, 

Beneath the quiet churchyard mould ; 

Were I no more on earth to see 

That loving eye shed light on me ; 

How dark, and drear, and desolate 

My pathway to the shining gate. 



It can not be, — it can not be ; 
Oh, Merciful ! we plead with thee. 
In this our tried and bitter hour. 
Come near us with thy healing power; 
Call to that lip one little word. 
So oft like music-murmurs heard. 
The full rich harmonies of life 
Are hushed amid the dying strife. 



DYING. 243 

Faint, fainter comes the feeble breath — 
Deep, deeper grows thy shadow, Death ; 
The quivering heart-strings thou hast found 
They give back no melodious sound. 
Vain, vain love's wild imploring prayer — 
Vain sleepless vigil, tireless care. 
We sink in depths of misery, — 
Our Father ! raise our souls to thee. 

Taken from earth's weary way 
To the land of endless day ; 
Taken from the coming sorrow, — 
From each changing, sad to-morrow. 
Crowned with glory ! — back, sad tears. 
She shall know no darkened years. 
Crowned with glory ! on life's track 
Wish we not tlie freed one back. 



OUR DARLING' 8 BIRTHDAY 



Our darling's birthday ! it was wont to come 
On the bright wings of joyous hope and love ; 

Falling amid the radiance of the hours 

Whose summer glories woo the heart above. 

'Twas ushered in by lips whose every strain 
Was one glad glow of melody and mirth — - 

Whose untaught music chimed in unison 
With all the blessed harmonies of earth. 

Twas ushered in by happy bounding feet, 

That, with young heart-throbs, kept such pleasant time, 
Awaking childhood's purest happiness 

In many a joyful burst of sweetest rhyme. 

From morn till night those eyes grew never dim, 

Looking upon us but to love and bless, 
Flashing their sunshine over home and hearth, 

From the full fount of their own joyousness. 



OUR DARLING'S BIRTHDAY. 245 



Our darling's birthday ! it hath come again ; 

The hours are goWeu, and the sunshine bright, 
And God hath robed this pleasant world of ours 

In hues of loveliness — in glorious light. 



But to ray heart, this day, there seeraeth cast 
Across the beauty of the earth and sky, 

A sombre shade that veileth, even now, 
The kindling glories that around me lie. 



It dims the radiance of the hill and vale, 
And fills the air with sad, low melodies. 

That, as they sweep across each bud and flower, 
Burden the fragrance of the gentle breeze. 



No boyish form comes proudly forth to-day. 
Clad with prerogative of natal right ; 

No rosy lips, to-day, win pressure fond. 
Nor love's sweet tokens gracefully requite. 



It seems to me those pattering feet must come 
To-day. I hear their echoes on the stair. 

And start and listen, but to know 

That never, never, shall I know them there. 



24() OUR DARLING'S BIRTHDAY. 

Our darling's birthday ! it hatii come to eartli, 
And he has gone to dwell in yonder Heaven ; 

His bright years crowned with an unfading grace, 
That to our mortal pathway is not given, 

Undimmed by shadows, brightened by the light 
Reflected from the radiance of the Throne, 

He stands (no longer by life's years enthralled) 
And claims a higher birthday for his own. 

A higher birthday ! Avhen his childish soul 

Awoke to life amid the seraphim ; 
When, at the shining gate, arose the strains — 

The deathless music of his triumph hymn. 

A life he won, not counted by dull years — 
No varying light and shade its changes tell — 

Where, with earth's vanished angel, it will be — 
As countless years sweep ever onward — well. 



THE PRAYER OF KING S0L03I(J\. 



In vast magnificence the temple stood 
Complete — a dream of beauty realized, 
Whose rich imaginings had ne'er before 
Greeted the earth with its rare radiance. 
Like quivering sunlight gleamed the altar there ; 
The golden vessels and the table shone 
With burnished lustre, — while the cherubim 
Spread their calm wings above the mercy seat, 
As if to breathe a benison o'er all. 
King Solomon gazed on the gorgeous scene 
With full and thankful heart, and as he knelt 
Before the altar, ])rayed thus to the mighty Lord : 

' Lord of Israel, there is none like thee 
In the high Heaven, or on the earth we tread ; 
All merciful and covenant-keeping, Thou, 
With those who in thy holy footsteps tread. 
Oh, Lord ! the Heaven of Heavens contains thee not. 
How much less, then, this house I build for thee ; 
Yet hearken to the prayers thy people breathe. 
And let their offerings accepted be. 



248 THE PRAYER OF KING SOLOMON. 

" If any one against his brother man 
Should trespass by unkind word or deed. 
And on his soul be lain a sacred oath, 
Coming before the altar in his need, — 
Hear Thou in Heaven, Thy dwelling place, oh, Lord, 
And judge between the wicked and the true ; 
Condemn the false one, — justify the right, 
And fill the fainting soul with courage new. 



"When thine own people, Israel, shall fall, 
Smitten before their vengeful enemy, 
Because they have forsaken Thy commands — 
Sinning in perverse blindness against thee ; — 
If they shall turn in penitence on high. 
Confess Thy name, and lowly, humbly pray ; 
Hear Thou in Heaven, Thy chosen dwelling place — 
Forgive, and wash each marring sin away. 



" When for Thy people's sins the heavens are shut. 
And the parched earth doth pine for gentle rain,— 
When the fair floweret fades, with drooping head, 
To know no radiant hue or life again, — 
When the tall grass lies languishing and low, 
And tree, and shrub, no gentle fragrance give ; — 
If Israel turn toward this place in prayer. 
Hear Thou, oh. Lord ! to answer and forgive. 



THE PRAYER OF KING SOLOMON. 249 

''When famine stalks abroad upon the earth, 
With bloodless cheek, and gaunt, imploring hand, — 
When the dark wing of Azrael unfolds 
Amid the pestilence that sweeps the land, — 
When blasting and when mildew mar the earth ; 
When enemies besiege the land we love ; — 
If Israel turns to Thee, oh. Lord! in prayer, 
Forgive, and thus Thy grace and mercy prove. 



" Whene'er the stranger comes unto our land, 
Hearing of Thy great name — each mighty deed ; 
Thine arm stretch out to pity and to bless ; — 
If he shall come here in his utmost need. 
Praying unto Thee, — Oh ! our mighty Lord, 
Hear Thou in Heaven, Thy glorious dwelling place. 
Hear and forgive, — and grant his earnest prayer 
According to Thy great and endless grace. 



" When Israel to the battle-field shall go 
In conflict with their fierce contentious foe ; 
If they shall look on high to Thee for aid. 
For the strong succor, he who trusts Thee knows, 
Hear Thou in heaven each supplicating tone, 
And give them for their portion, victory ; 
Returning 'neath the shelter of their homes. 
Happy and peaceful ever more to be. 



50 THE PRAYER OF KING SOLOMON. 

" And yet, if they shall sin against thee sore, 
And Thon shalt give them to their enemy, 
Captives, afar from their beloved Land, 
In servile bondage lone and sad to be ; 
When they shall pine for their remembered joys, — 
For the sweet ^Yhispering of the olive tree ; 
If they, oh Lord! shall come to Thee in prayer, 
Hear Thon in Heaven, and set the captives free. 

"For they are thine,^thy chosen, and thine own, — 
Thon bronghtest them from Egypt's servile Land — 
Through desert sands and weary years they came. 
Though sometimes faithless, yet a trusting band. 
Of thy great care — thy wond'rous providence — 
Our lips would gladly murmur day by day. 
Of the high truths unto our fathers spoken 
By him who led them o'er the toilsome way." 

And Solomon arose when he had breathed 

His fervent prayer, and spread his hands to Heaven 

And blessed he the Lord, who gave the rest. 

Unto his people not one single word 

That he had spoken to Israel had failed — 

With solemn invocation yet he prayed 

That God would leave them not; that he would still 

Incline their hearts to love and worship Him ; 

To keep his every statute and command ; 

That all the dwellers upon earth might know 

That He was God, and there was none like Him. 



A RESPONSE 



To the call for six hundred thousand men. 

We come — six hundred thousand strong, 

A brave and patriotic band, 
Each with a strong undaunted heart, 

Each with a good right hand. 
Awake the notes of martial tone, 

Sound forth the pealing drum ; 
For, with a firm and fearless step 

We come ! we come ! we come ! 

We come, our country to sustain. 

Its foemen to subdue ; 
To bear aloft, with deathless might, 

Our own " red, white and blue." 
Our hands shall plant on many a height 

The glorious stripes and stars ; 
Unresting, 'till not one dark star 

Their peerless beauty mars. 



252 A RESPONSE. 

Wc come, with souls prepared to stand 

In many a conflict dire ; 
With vengeful missies round us thrown, 

Amid war's hostile fire. 
No mercy ours for traitor foes, 

As face to face we stand. 
God ! smile upon the onward way 

Of our devoted Land. 



We come, although beloved lips 

Grow pale with keenest pain, — 
Although we ne'er may look upon 

The eyes wc love again ; 
Though sobbing farewells throng our path, 

And tears bedew our way ; 
Though clinging hand enfold our own, 

Wc may not — cannot stay. 



And thus we take our onward march, 

Resolved to do or die ; 
We vow it on our country's shrine, — 

'Tis 7'egistered on high ; 
We vow no fear, — no change to know 

While lives a hostile van ; 
We vow to stand, — if needs, to fall, 
"Where man doth die for man." 



A RESPONSE. 253 

We come, we come with eager hearts, 

With banners waving free, — 
That float upon the summer air, 

And tell of victory. 
Look down the long and glittering ranks, 

A vast and conquering throng ; 
One aim — one thought, — one purpose theirs, — 

Six hundred thousand strong! 



OUR FATHER'S GRAVE. 



Oh, waiting grave ! must thou enshrine 

That cherished form I love so well ; 
Those pleasant smiles that o'er my way 

Like the refreshing sunlight fell? 
Must those dear eyes go down to thee, 

Closed in their calm, unbroken sleep ? 
How long will be the future years. 

If thou their gentle beauty keep ? 



Oh, waiting grave ! how can I give 

To thee that loved and honored head, 
Whose silver hair has been my pride 

And joy, as happy moments sped? 
I charge thee ! take it tenderly. 

For 'round it strong my heartstrings cling ; 
Guard it amid its low, lone rest — 

A cherished and a sacred thing. 



OUR FATHK/rS (I RAVE. 

Thine, too, those quiet, gentle hands, 

That many a deed of love have done, 
Folded so calmly, side by side; — 

Grave, what a treasure thou hast won I 
Their blessing lingers on my head, 

I feel their pressure fond and true ; 
Take them, yes, take them, I have known 

Their last good night — their fond adieu. 



Those silent feet — though slow and sad 

We bear them to their resting-place — 
Have trod with joy the darkened vale, 

Kept by a loving Savior's grace. 
I shall not hear their coming steps, — 

That music sounds for me no more — 
And yet their echoes come to me 

In gladness from yon shining shore. 



Soft be the slumber of the eyes 

That ever o'er my life hav'c smiled, 
Whose glance of kind, approving love, 

Full many a vanished hour beguiled. 
Amid each dark and sombre hour, 

Their memory sheds its cheering ray 
A vision of undying power. 

Whose beauty cannot pass away. 



256 OVR FATHER'S GRAVE. 

I know, that on some coming day, 

My heart shall thrill to hear again 
The tone and words I love so well, 

For which my spirit longs in vain. 
I know that smile shall yet be mine ; 

That dear hand press again my own ; 
That all my grief shall pass away. 

And I " shall know, as I am known." 

And with that perfect faith and trust, 

I look away from earth to heaven, 
Adoring him, whose loving hand 

Such blessed light to me hath given. 
Still brighter gleam those streets of gold, 

Since kindred feet their paths have trod, 
Still nearer seems that angel clime. 

Since one we love went home to God. 



FALLEN ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 



.Fallen on the field of battle ; 

Comrades, gently raise his head. 
Pillow it upon some brave heart, 

It hath known a gory bed. 

Wipe the death damps from his forehead, 
Where the rich locks cluster o'er, — 

Loving hands shall stray amid them. 
Smooth their brightness — never more. 

See death's shadow stilly stealing 
O'er his lips so wan and pale, 

Struggling vainly for the utterance 
Of some word, ere life shall fail. 

Bend down low to catch the whisper, 
'Tis of one so well beloved, — 

One who gave him up, all tearful, 

When his manhood's truth was proved. 
17 



258 FALLEN ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 

Take his sword — he wore it proudly — 
From his cold and clinging hand ; 

They will miss that noble presence 
In that brave, devoted band. 



Traitor hands may never wield it, 
Hang it up where it may tell 

Of the pride with which he bore it, 
Ere on battle-field he fell. 



Now his faithful heart is quiet, 
Now his flashing eye is dim. 

Now, when lips afar do murmur 
Fondest, loving prayers for him. 

Little know they that the starlight 
Shines above his pale dead face, 

As his comrades sadly bear him 
To his last sad resting place. 

Glory's mantle is around him, 
Starry banners o'er him wave. 

Fame shall crown his name with lustre, 
Gleaming round his soldier grave. 



FALLEN ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 259 

Honor to the brave be given 

Falling on the battle-field ; 
Strew their rest with fadeless laurels, 

Proud and fair as earth may yield. 

Shrine their names amid each household, — 

Tell of thera on shore and sea, — 
Deeds like theirs demand the tribute 

Of an immortality. 



NOT DEAD. 



We will not call our darling dead, 
Though we have lain his infant head, 
With tears, upon his coffin bed. 

Not dead ! although his violet eyes, 
As bright as stars in summer skies, 
Grew dim amid life's agonies. 

Not dead ! though baby hands, so cold, 

In quiet beauty we did fold, 

To rest beneath the churchyard mold. 

Oh, no ! not dead ! — the seraphim. 
Even as his in/ant eye grew dim. 
On shining wing bent low for him, 

And to the land of fadeless flowers, 

Amid the amaranthine bowers. 

They bore this cherished child of ours. 



NOT DEAD. 261 

His angel-life was there begun, — 
His pain and agony all done, — 
His short and fleeting race all run. 

Joy for thee, darling! earth's no more — 
A dweller on the shining shore. 
Where angels teach thee Heaven's lore. 

Teach us, oh. Father ! as we tread 

In sadness near his little bed, 

To say, with faith, not dead — not dead. 

Guide thou our weak and straying feet, 
To walk in joy each golden street, 
Our sinless darling there to meet. 



MARCH 4th, 1865. 



Ring out, oh, bells ! your sweetest notes, 
Float on the wind, oh, banner fair ; 

To-day our Ship of State glides on 
In safety 'neath our pilot's care. 

Our Captain — not of mortal mould — 
Smiles on its course, — while harmonies, 

Evoked from many a murmuring M'ave, 
Blend with each speeding, favoring breeze. 

At his command the ship is steered — 
And on this day we fain would clasp 

The hand so trusted and so true, 

That, with stern Faith, the helm doth grasp. 

That hand had loosed the bondman's chain ; 

It bade oppression's terror flee — 
Making the passing days and hours 

The happy year of jubilee. 

The trodden-down look up again, 
No crouching fear is in their gaze, 

While lips, unused to melody, 
Sing loud and high their hymn of praise. 



MARCH 4th, J869. 263 

Laiis Deo — is the full heart's song ; 

A mighty nation's soul is stirred. 
From North to South, from East to West, 

A matchless minstrelsy is heard. 

Still sounding on the shores of Time, 
These triumph tones shall never die; 

But, blending with the stars' sweet strain, 
Shall win an immortality. 

And grandly through the eternal years, 

Kind Heaven shall each glad note prolong; 

For with the rapture of the blest, 
Shall sound the cadence of this song. 

Then ring, oh, bell, your sweetest notes ! 

Wave to the breeze ye banners fair! 
With bended knee and soul of Faith 

We ask our Father's love and care. 

We ask His blessing on the ship 

That walks the waters proud and free ; 

His blessing on the good right hand 
That, for the truth, strives valiantly. 



THE SOLDIER'S MONUMENT. 



Rise, crowned with glory ! shaft of white, 

Tower brightly to the bright blue sky, 
And tell in triumph to the world 

The names that were not born to die. 
Names, that throughout all coming time. 

Shall gleam with lustre pure and bright,- 
A lustre won for noble deeds. 

And tinged with Heaven's eternal light. 

When treason and disunion reared 

Their serpent heads with tongue of flame, 
And, with defiance and distrust, 

Our bitter, vengeful foes became ; 
When o'er the mountain and the vale 

Was heard our country's stirring cry : 
" To arms ! to arms !" and patriot hearts 

Resolved to conquer or to die. 



THE SOLDIER'S MONUMENT. 265 

Then went each noble spirit forth, 

With trusting faith and strong right hand ; 
They stood " where man doth die for man," 

A fearless and unshrinking band ; 
They faltered not — but onward pressed, 

Firm in their manhood's power and pride ; 
And for our safety — for our weal — 

They bravely fought, — they nobly died. 



How shall we give them honor due? — 

How twine the laurel, for them meet? 
Had we the riches of the world 

To lay at their unconquered feet, 
'T would not avail, — nor would it tell 

The grateful memories that we keep, 
Distilled in many a falling tear. 

Above their calm, unbroken sleep. 



But we will shrine each noble name 

Upon the marble pure and white. 
And the glad sunshine, day by day. 

Shall bathe them in its flowing light. 
The winds shall steal from Eden bowers. 

And linger 'round the sacred place, — 
Where stands the record that, with pride, 

A grateful country loves to trace. 



Sm ■■ TME SOLDIER'S MONUMENT. 

Look down, oh, watching stars of heaven ! 

Through the lone hours of mystic night, 
To guard them well with loving ward, 

And crown them with your golden light. 
Fall gently, purely, dews and showers. 

Those high and hallowed names around ; 
Fall as a blessing o'er the place 

Where memory makes it holy ground. 

Then rise, fair marble ! take thy place 

Among the things which earth will keep 
While time shall last, — and many an age 

Lies down unto its dreamless sleep. 
The hand of Genius crowns thee, too — 

Its living impress thou doth wear, — 
As clothed with its unchanging grace, 

Thou dost immortal deeds declare. 



THE WIDOW'S SON. 



"The only son of his mother, and she was a widow. 



Over a fair and coffined form 

A weeping mother bendeth low, 
To press, with pale and quivering lips, 

The marble cheek and white, cold brow. 
All motionless! unheeding, too. 

The gushing of that deathless love 
That would for him have given life. 

Its soundless depth and strength to prove. 

He was a widow's only son ! 

All that she loved on earth were given 
Unto the Master's hand, whose eye 

Looked on them in His own fair Heaven. 
Not one bright link to her was left 

Of love's entwining, golden chain. 
Save he, upon whose placid brow 

Her burning tears fell like the rain. 



268 THE WIDOW'S SON. 

Her boy ! how could she give him up? 

He, whose young, fresh, unsullied lip 
Had scarcely pressed the cup of life, 

Its bright and sparkling draught to sip. 
He, without whom Hope never told 

Her sweet and blessed prophecy. 
Deeming that coming houFS shall keep 

Him still beside his mother's knee. 



How could she see that loving eye, 

Once glorious with its kindling light. 
Sealed in the silence of the tomb, 

Sleeping in death's unchanging night? 
How could she give that sunny head, 

And its soft links of clustering hair, 
To rest within a coffin bed? 

How could she leave their beauty there? 



She took the pale and folded hands 

Again so fondly in her own ; 
She numbered o'er the kindly deeds, 

Which through life's lapses she had known. 
What would console her when she missed 

Their out-strjetched welcome at the door, — 
When their warm greeting and caress 

Should come to bless her nevermore ? 



THE WIDOW'S "^ON. 269 

What would sustain her when those feet 

Shall fail at dewy eve to dome, — 
When their glad echoes should not sound 

Amid the stillness of their home? 
When she should yearn, and pray in vain, 

Only to hear one blessed word 
Fnmi lips whose tones like music were, — 

Whose every sound her spirit stirred? 



Sad, sad and slow the funeral train 

Departs from the now darkened home — 
But, hark ! what words of strength and love 

Upon her soul like balm do come. 
Who bids her weep for him no more? 

Who bids the silent sleeper wake? 
'Tis He ! the mighty Lord ! whose hand 

Alone can Death's dark signet break. 



And gently now life's shadows start 

Across that pale and youthful face. 
And lip, and cheek, and manly brow, 

Resume again their wonted grace. 
The hands, still wet with many a tear, 

Give back a welcome fond and true, 
And smiles are wreathing lips that sobbed, 

But now, their passionate adieu. 



270 THB WIDOW'S SON. 

Joy to thee, mother ! those young feet 

Go back with thee unto thine home ; 
Joy to thee ! that unto thine house 

The Lord of life and light did come. 
He placed within thine empty arms 

Thy breathing, living, speaking child, 
And gave unto thy stricken heart 

The love that all thy hours beguiled. 

Sing high His holy praise by day, — 

Repeat it under starlit skies. 
And over Tabor's towering might 

Let it like sweetest insence rise ; 
And sounding down through ages vast, 

Shall float its echoes clear and sweet, 
With memories of the blessed time 

When sorrow with such joy did meet. 



Oh ! in the regions of the blest. 

Shall not the Master's hand restore 
To many weeping mothers' arms, 

The children who have gone before? 
Sad heart! be patient — life is short, 

And Heaven is an eternity ! 
He who gave back the widow's son 

Keeps thy beloved safe for thee. 



MISSING. 



I miss from my pathway a voice of love, 

That ever like music seemed ; 
A young, bright head, with its shining curls, 

That ever like sunshine gleamed. 
I miss a remembered smile whose light, 

With a fair and kindling grace, 
Wreathed lip and brow with a beauty rare, 

And left its unchanging trace. 

I miss from my pathway a clasping hand. 

With its pressure so fond and true ; 
I am thinking sadly upon the time 

When we murmured our last adieu. 
I wait and watch for the bounding feet 

That stand on the threshold no more. 
While memory numbers, as jewels rare, 

The echoes she knows are o'er. 



272 MISSING. 

I miss them all, though my soul doth keep 

Its vigils all tearful and sad ; 
I snatch no gleam of the youthful head, 

With its crown of radiance clad. 
The rosy lips never more do part 

To utter one blessed word. 
And silence broods, like a spirit dark, 

Where glad, homeward steps were heard. 



Who heareth now those familiar tones? 

The^ saints and the angels fair, 
Where falls like the sunlight those parted smiles, 

Where the pure, white robes shall wear. 
Where walk those feet in their youth and strength? 

Through the streets of the blessed land — 
The land where that kindred hand doth clasp 

With a joyous and blood-bought band. 



The land whose beauty shall know no blight, 

Whose flowers know no decay ; 
The land where time shall impart no trace 

As the hours glide calmly away ; 
Where the sunny head shall lose no light, 

Nor the flashing eye grow dim ; 
Where the lips we love shall be taught the strains 

That are breathed by the seraphim. 



MISSING. 273 



And I hush ray heart to sweet quietude 

As these thoughts its pulses thrill — 
With a holy trust and submissive faith 

I bow to my father's will. 
For well I know that on some fair day 

I shall stand by life's crystal tide, 
And clasp again to my joyful hearty 

My lost and my glorified. 



18 



CHARLES DICKENS. 



He sleeps — whose mighty genius shed 

Its rays upon the admiring earth ; 
The magic influence of whose words 

Lingers by every home and hearth. 
Wherever the glad sunlight streams, 

Where snows on downy pinions rest, 
Beneath the olive and the pine, 

Regretful hearts their powers attest. 



He sleeps — whose comprehensive soul 

Embraced uncounted stores of thought; 
Who gave to real worth a charm, 

And life with blessed influence fraught. 
He touched, he thrilled the human heart 

With sacred fire — the gift of Heaven — 
Until it seemed that to his soul 

A superhuman power was given. 



CHARLES DICKENS. 275 

Though dead, yet shall he ever live, 

And down Time's rapid, billowy stream, 
Throughout the ages shall his name. 

With added lustre brightly gleam. 
Until the quiet silver stars 

Shall leave their orbit, and the sky 
Fold up its canopy of blue. 

He shall live on — he cannot die. 



Then bear with slow and reverent step 

This man of giant mind and power, 
And think the while how palace grand 

And cot alike, bewail this hour. 
Hark ! how his thoughts like armies dwel 

Upon the hillside — in the vale — 
And touch with happy light the brows 

Which weary care and grief assail. 



Lay him to rest where the long lines 

Of rank and genius slumber well; 
Where the tall marble proudly stands 

Its record of rare works to tell ; 
Where caskets of immortal minds. 

Robbed of their jeweled heritage. 
Calmly await the coming time 

When death no more its war shall wiige. 



276 CHARLES DICKENS. 

Lay him to rest where regal heads 

Lie crownless, and unheeding all ; 
Where silence folds its mystic robes 

Around them like a shadowy pall. 
Garments of purple may not win 

Such memories as for him we keep, 
Nor call so sad a requiem forth, 

Above their calm, unbroken sleep. 



Lay him to i:est where poets sleep, 

Who sang the world's enduring songs - 
The cadence of whose wondrous strains 

A grateful earth with pride prolongs. 
Gently around the hallowed spot 

Floats their remembered minstrelsy ; 
Like them, he breathed his spirit forth, 

And won an immortality. 



Lay him amid the good and great. 

The lights of many a vanished age ; 
His country claims him, and his fame 

Is her own brilliant heritage. 
Footsteps from every clime shall come — 

Those by his tender fancies taught. 
Shall linger round the sacred shrine 

With memories green, that wither not. 



CHARLES DICKENS. 277 

Receive him then, ye mighty dead ! 

He eomes unto you crowned — his name 
Re-echoes grandly through the land, 

And in the highest niche of fame 
He stands forever. Time may dim 

The radiant light of noble deeds ; 
But with fresh laurels for his grave, 

No coming year its course impedes. 

Receive the still, unconscious heart, 

Bereft of every glorious thought ; 
Take the hushed lips, whose spoken word 

To earth their rich, rare beauty taught. 
Give sweetest rest to the crossed hands, 

And to the pillowed manly head ; 
While the wide world shall strew its flowers 

Above the brow of England's dead. 



THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. 



She stood before the haughty one^ with firm, unswerving 

heart, 
For vainly fell the menial's words that bade her thence 

depart ; 
Not with a glad and bounding step — not with youth's 

fairest glow — 
The silver hair and pallid cheek told their own tale of 

woe. 

''Woman, what would'st thou? Why art herc?'^ spake 

he of iron mould ; 
And, with a flash, his piercing eye its proud defiance 

told: 
" I crave the pardon of my lord — whom thou in chains 

dost hold — 
Look ! mark ye well my agony ! my tears and prayers 

behold !" 



THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. 279 

" Hear me ! Thou hast a gentle wife ! Hast loved her 
long and well — ^ 

The sweetest music of thy life from her soft accents fell; 

Picture her agony, if thou beneath the axe should stand — 

Thy life's-blood gushing out where strikes the heads- 
man's gory hand ! 



" Thou art a father, and hast loved thy children's fond 
caress ; 

Hast kissed with pride each sunny brow, and smoothed 
each silken tress ; 

Hast listened to the rosy lips that breathed a cliildish 
prayer, 

Asking our Father — thine and mine — for his protect- 
ing care." 



"Woman, away!" rang harshly out. "No! by thy iiope 

of Heaven, 
By love thou bearest Him on high; Desmond must be 

forgiven ! 
My sons are brave — they'll honor thee — their future 

lives are thine — 
In every hope, in every prayer, we will thy name 

entwine." 



280 THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. 

Stern and unmoved, with rigid brow, he sat in regal state, 
Unheeding still her stricken heart — her home so 

desolate ; 
Till fiercely, merciless, he cried: '' Woman, I tell thee — 

No! 
Depart unto thy home! my hand shall conquer every 

foe I" 



"Then by the memory of the blood that flowed at White- 
hall, hear" — 

A murmur through the courtiers ran ; a hush thro' very 
fear. 

"Woman!" he cried: "Go thou in peace, thy husband 
shall be free ! 

Thy love hath saved him — daring all — few, few, have 
loved like thee !" 



MY FATHER'S BIRTHDAY. 



It came amid the sweet September hours, 

When mellowed radiance kindled o'er the earth, — 

When the glad beauty of this world of ours 
Seemed from the upper clime to take its birth. 

And yet its light seemed veiled in sombre sorrow — 
A stillness and deep shadow dwelt around ; 

Nor could my spirit from Hope's fair light borrow 
One ray to make its sadness less profound. 

For, oh, I missed that head of silvery whiteness ! 

Those dear, white locks — they come before me now, 
Seeming a crown of glory in their brightness — 

Resting so stilly o'er that calm, high brow. 

I missed the lips that had such pleasant tone ; 

Their wonted blessing came not — their fond j)rayer; 
Throughout my life their music I had known — 

It made as gossamer each cloud and care. 



282 ■ MY FATHER'S BIRTHDAY. 

I missed the wonted smiles from eyes beloved, — 
The warm, glad welcome from his clasping hand 

That had so oft its faith and fervor proved, — 
No heart could e'er its kindlings withstand. 



I looked so vainly for those homeward feet ; 

I sighed for their return — oh, faithless heart ! 
Gazing so often o'er the lengthened street. 

Where I should know them from the world apart. 



I thought, perchance, to find him by the tomb, 
Where those we love find sweet and pleasant rest ; 

It seemed to me that there could be no gloom 
If that dear form lay gently on earth's breast. 



Vain was my longing search — he was not there; 

But to my heart there came a voice of love, 
Whose wondrous sweetness seemed to fill the air, 

And win my spirit to the clime above. 



There, there I found him by the throne of God ; 

I hear his triumph song, by angels led; 
I saw the shining streets his feet had trod, — 

The starry crown on his beloved head. 



MY FATHER'S BIRTHDAY. 283 

And 'mid the countless throng of the redeemed 
That circled round Jehovah's great white throne, 

To my rapt soul no voice of sweetness seemed 

More sweet than that my vanished life had known. 



Not to the walks of life, where countless feet 
Fail on the rugged and the thorny track ; 

Not even to make my happiness complete 
Shall one rebellious wish e'er call him back. 



But on some coming day, when with crossed hands, 
I sleep the sleep that knows no waking hour, 

Our Father ! may Thy waiting angel bands 

Bear me to him — beyond Death's mighty power. 



THE RED RIBBON. 



Inscribed to all who wear it. 



Three cheers for the royal ribbon ! 

With promises brave and true, 
Like the stars of our country's banner 

It brightens the world anew. 
Where commerce is busy, and labor 

Is crowned with a manly grace. 
In homes and streets and in churches, 

Its glorious signal we trace. 



It tells of a soul's endeavor 

To cast off a deadly chain ; 
Of war against sin and evil, 

Of hopes that blossom again. 
It tells us of brows grown peaceful, 

Of eyes that will wear new light ; 
Of happiness round the hearth-stone, 

Where the glowing fire is bright. 



THE RED RIBBON. 285 

It tells us — God bless it forever — 

That man, in His image made, 
Shall lift up the trace of the author 

At the tempter's altar laid ; 
And 'neath the blue skies of Heaven, 

In an added strength shall stand. 
As one stood in the bowers of Eden, 

With life from the Master's hand. 



Stand firm ! oh, stand firm, my brother! 

Stand in your freedom and peace ! 
Proclaim to the world your purpose, 

Your noble resolve and release. 
Go forth in the streets and highways, 

In mercy, where guilt once led. 
And wear, as a manly breast-plate, 

The royal ribbon of red. 



We shall hear the glad rejoicings, 

And the sad and tearful eyes 
Shall look up in the blessed sunlight, 

Where no weary shadow lies. 
And the ribbon of red shall usher 

The grand and glorious time, 
W^hen earth shall be fair and ennobled 

With rapture and joy sublime. 



386 THE RED RIBBON. 

God bless the " Red Ribbon " forever ! 

And strengthen each heart that wears 
This token of high endeavor, 

Upheld by its hopes and prayers, 
God bless the " Red Ribbon " forever ! 

Encompass the faltering feet, 
Till they stand on the Hills Eternal, 

With victory all complete. 



ONE YEAR IN HEAVEN. 



One year 
Since the dear voice grew silent here, — 
Since her sweet accents echoed 'round — 
Sweet words! that love so fondly crowned. 
Like rays of the departing day, 
Gently and calm they passed away ; 
When entered through the gates of gold, 
The purest lamb amidst the fold. 



One year 
Since the young eyes, with vision clear, 
Closed ; and the lashes, long and brown. 
On the fair cheek were folded down. 
We missed the sunshine which they shed ; 
Our paths were darkened when it fled ; 
Heaven had so much — why cannot we 
Even now its beauty round us see? 



288 ONE YEAR IN HEAVEN. 

One year 
Since gentle hands were busy hei'e 
With their sweet ministry of love ; 
With every passing hour inwove. 
Such patient hands ! God loved them best ; 
And so, to calm and pleasant rest 
We left them — sorrowing when the lid 
Away from us their beauty hid. 



One year 
Since, dimmed with many a tear, 
Our eyes looked lovingly the last, 
Where, with all pain and suffering past. 
Reposed a graceful, childish head 
Upon its snowy coffin bed. 
A radiance from the holy hill — 
God's suushine — lingered o'er it still. 



One year 
Where skies -are ever fair and clear, 
Beyond the glory of the stars. 
Where not a passing shadow mars; 
Where beauty lingers 'round her way ; 
And where the light of perfect day 
Makes glorious all the golden hours 
That fleetly pass in Eden bowers. 



ONE YEAR IN HEAVEN 289 

One year 
Without a sorrow or a tear ; 
One year with Jesus — at His side, — 
Ransomed, redeemed, and glorified ; 
Never from the safe fold to stray ; 
Never to walk in thorny way. 
Oh, happy thou ! so loved and dear, 
To wear the crown in Heaven one year. 



19 



ALL THINGS PRAISE HIM. 



" All Thy works do praise Thee, O Lord." 



Rosy morning with its ray 
Deepening into perfect day ; 
Noontide, with its fervid heat, 
Gleaming o'er the busy street ; 
Twilight, with its low, sweet tone. 
Breathing to the soul alone ; 
Midnight deep and dark — all bear 
Traces of His love and care. 

Gentle Spring-time, green and fair; 
Summer with its balmy air. 
And its voice of whispering leaves — 
Telling what the heart believes; 
Gorgeous Autumn, banner crowned, 
Strewing trophies all around ; 
Winter, with its icy seal, — 
His great power and love reveal. 



ALL THINGS PRAISE HIM. 291 

In the violet's placid eye, 
Gazing calmly on the sky; 
In the rose's rich perfume, — 
In all flowers that brightly bloom ; 
In the towering forest tree, 
Filled with nature's minstrelsy; 
On each bud, and leaf, and blade, 
God's omnipotence is laid. 



Mighty ocean, with its breast 
White with many a foamy crest ; 
Dashing, surging, sweeping on. 
Chimes in glorious unison, 
As its billows rave and swell. 
With the voices, which all tell, 
Through each passing hour, how high 
Is the power they deify. 



Rippling voice from wave and rill ; 
Beauty o'er the vale and hill ; 
Shining stars, with golden crown. 
Gazing ever watchful down, — 
Seeming quietly to shrine. 
In their gleaming, truths divine. 
With a ceaseless voice all tell 
That " He doeth all thinss well." 



292 ALL THINGS PRAISE HIM. 

Every hour of happiness 
That life's onward way doth bless ; 
Every thrilling dream of love 
Is an echo from above, 
Emanating from the soul 
Of the omnipresent whole — 
He whose praise the universe 
Doth in glorious strains rehearse. 



All is beauty — even now, 
With the sunlight on my brow, 
Looking round — below, above, 
On such traces of His love ; — 
Even now, my soul would fain 
Soar above, where angels reign,— 
More of its high source to know 
Than my spirit finds below. 



If thus fair our world was made. 
With such radiance overlaid ; 
If across the wakened soul, 
Here such thrills of rapture roll, — 
What must that home of glory be, 
Where beauty lives eternally ? 
And not a dimming shadow steals 
Amid the splendor God reveals. 



HOPE. 



Hope? radiant Hope! that glideth along 
With a stej) so light and a lip of song, 
Enwreathed with garlands of buds of flowers, 
Casting rich sunlight o'er future hours, 
What dost thou bring for the sons of earth ? 
Is it jewels and treasures of untold worth, 
Or the the false, whose brightness will surely fade 
When Reality's test upon each is laid? 

"I bring to earth the enrapturing dream. 
Tinged with the glories which round me beam ; 
And brilliant visions of happy days 
Grow brighter from light that round me plays. 
My moments are jeweled — my hours of gold, 
As gently my promises all are told ; 
And I weave for each mortal a fabric bright. 
Whose rainbow hues gild the darkest night. 



294 HOPE. 

" For the monarch's brow I've a richer crown 
Than that which presses so heavily down ; 
And through my vista he oft doth trace 
The lengthened train of his noble race. 
I never will whisper how dark and drear 
Is the dungeon and prison, so often near 
To the feet that thread to the dizzy height, 
Where fame and ambition so oft invite. 



" For the warrior brave, I have victory's note, 
Triumphant on many a breeze to float; 
The sunny light on unconquered hills, 
The unchecked streams and the gushing rills, 
And peaceful homes for the brave and free, 
Where the tyrant's footsteps may never be ; 
A quiet rest for the household hearth, 
Crowned with the laurels of noble worth. 



" For the heart that loves I am bearing a spell, 
Holier far than the lip may tell ; 
Sacred the dreams which my hand doth bring, 
Fairy the garlands I round it fling. 
I would the future might never eftace 
The rosy light that my footsteps trace ; 
That the ebbing tide of affection's flow. 
No wasted treasures shall sadly show. 



IKH'K. 295 

"For the mother a fairy tissue I f)ring, 
Woven with hues of the early spring; 
Weh^ome ea(h whispered promise shall be, 
For the ehild that kneels at her parent knee. 
I will plaee on the upturned infant brow 
The jeweled crown to which mortals bow ; 
And joy shall beam on Iut gentle face. 
As the unseen "utiire I fondly trace. 



" For the lone and sorrowful one I beai- 
A token to cham from ea<,'h toil and fiirc ; 
A cheering ligh for the darkened home, 
Where echoes oi joyfulness never conic. 
The widowed hurt shall be glad again, 
And wreathing fniles deck the brow <>l' p:iin ; 
While the orpha's path I will brightly bles." 
With visions of :indred tenderness. 



" For the Christia:, a crowd that .shall never fade, 
At the Saviour's 'eet to be joyfully laid ; 
Angelic pinions nd harps of gold, 
Where love's swet melody all is told. 
Rest for the timi and wearied feet, 
To wander in jo; o'er each golden street; 
And calm reposeibr the earth-tossed heart 
That bears in th<conflict so fierce a part. 



296 



HOPE. 



"■ On pallid lips are my praises sung, — 
Each spirit's chords to nay song is strung; 
Dreary and dark would earth's places be 
Were not its shadows dispelled by me. 
The lip would turn from life's )iitter cup, 
Did my strong right hand not^toear it up, — 
Did I not whisper, in kindly /one. 
Of the coming light o'er the darkness thrown. 



^' And thus will I glide round each heart and home,- 
Thus to humanity's pathwaycome. 



at no\y glideth by, 
ternity. 
ong may wait, 



Until Time's swift stream, t 

Shall be lost in unbounded 

Then, then, alas ! though I 

I never may enter yon pear|^ gate ; 

My pinions never may flashjtheir flight 

Amid the ranks of the fairind bright. 



"Though I never may wear 
By the shining portals I'll 
I will hear the strains of tl 
Which voices unnumbered 
And the soothing angel of 
Shall come with rememberd 
As, with mission ended and 
Close, close to the brightne 



le angelic crown, 
t me down ; 
! triumph song, 
liall echo along, 
lemory 

joys to me 
bided wing, 
> of Heaven I cling. 



THE POOR YE HAVE ALWAYS WITH YOU. 



Thou! who dwellest around the hearth, 
Where ringeth voices of household mirth; 
Where childhood's fairy and graceful form 
Is sheltered well from the pitiless storm. 
Think of the homeless, whose darkened way 
Knoweth no gleaming of coming day ; 
Think of the hungry and desolate poor 
Knocking so meekly without your door. 

Turn not from words that are suffering's own — 
From sorrows thy pathway hath never known ; 
Heed thou the heart's impassionate wail — 
No woe like this doth thy life assail. 
Close not thy door on the empty hand, 
As hoping and fearing they still do stand; — 
Only our Father knows what the poor, 
Through the wintry storm and the cold endure. 



298 THE POOR YE HAVE ALWAYS WITH YOU. 

Let the deep prayer from thy heart go up 
To God, who fiUeth with sweets thy cup ; 
Praise him at morning, at noon and night, 
Thankfully ever such love requite. 
And turn thou then, with a loving heart. 
To the paths that in happiness bear no part, — 
To those whose lot is to need and endure, — 
The home of the friendless and suffering poor. 



Seek for the sad and the widowed heart — 
Thy cheering presence will hope impart; 
Lips that blest her now silent lie. 
Recking naught of her agony. 
Never dreamed she of days so drear. 
When that strong right arm was ever near. 
Soothe thou the weary and desolate moan, — 
Around the throne shall that deed be known. 



Seek for the lonely and orphaned head. 
O'er its dimmed brightness a blessing to shed ; 
Seek for the weary and wandering feet. 
Roaming afar o'er the drear cold street. 
Feed thou the hungry and famishing one. 
Wishing so vainly life's dreary race run ; 
Only thy accents in love to be heard. 
Speak but the gentle encouraging word. 



THE POOR YE HAVE ALWAYS WITH YOU. 299 

Give thou ! oh give — when cometh the hour 
That the clouds of sorrow around thee lower, 
God will uphold thee with his strong love, 
Showering rich benefits from above 
Unto thy basket and unto thy store, 
Adding, in mercy, still more and more. 
Hath He not said it ? His promise sure. 
Through time and eternity shall endure. 



THE REWARD OF FAITH. 



Over the valley and hill they sped, — 
The father and his boy — and the long hours 
Merged into days ere far Moriah's height 
Loomed up before their vision. 

Now they pause, 
^And with a trembling voice the weary sire 
Bids those whose love had guarded well the child 
To leave him. Hither had their footsteps come 
To oifer sacrifice unto their God — 
A holy incense to His glorious name ; 
And he would be alone save with his boy. 
" My father," spake the child, " I see the wood 
And fire, but yet I do not see the lamb 
For the burnt offering." 

'Round the father's heart 
Cold icy fingers seemed to cluster fast, 
As he replied in tones all tremulous: 
" My sou, our God himself provides a lamb." 



THE REWARD OF FAITH. 301 

Childlike and trustful, farther spake he not, 

But with blithe footsteps, wandering round. 

His little hands were busy as they moved 

In mimic toil to rear an altar shrine. 

How should his father tell him God's command; 

How tell him that his young unsullied life 

Must be the sacrifice? 

At last he spake, 
And all his life-long agony was naught 
Compared to that which crushed his spirit now. 
"My son — my darling one — thou art the lamb 
God doth provide a sacrifice to be ; 
And could my life save thine, this very hour 
With joy and gladness I would die for thee. 
My days arc many ; thy rosy hours 
Have been but few ; and I had fondly hoped 
That thou wouldst bless my life and close my eyes 
When earth had faded from my mortal sight. 
Thy God and mine hath chosen thee; he calls 
His precious gift I hailed so gladly, back. 
Come, my own boy ; the altar waits for thee. 
Think thou how God doth love thee, thus to call 
Thy youth-time, with its radiant beauty, home." 
The boy looked on his sire with fear and awe, 
His childish soul shrank from the gleaming knife 
And the rough cords that bound unto the wood; 
Yet, with a gentle trust and yielding love, 



302 THE REWARD OF FAITH. 

He gave himself unto his father's arms. 

How weak had grown that cold and trembling hand, 

As now he binds his boy's young feet with cords — 

Those pattering feet ! whose every step and sound 

Had been such blessed music to his ear ; 

Following where'er he went, from early morn 

Till homeward at the evening-time he came. 

And those dear hands ! that oft unto his home 

Had brought their loving gifts of bud and flowers, 

Clinging to his in many a pleasant walk ! 

And now a purple hue steals o'er them — 

The tightening pressure checks the current's flow, 

And all is ready. 

The sad Patriarch's heart 
Grows strangely strong, and with uplifted eye, 
Asking for strength to do his Father's will. 
The fatal knife is quickly raised on high. 

" Abraham ! Abraham ! " The gleaming blade 
Hath fallen from out that father's hand like light. 

"Touch not the lad, for now I surely know 
Thou lovest me, and hast not e'en withheld 
Thy son, the idol of thy loving heart. 
Release thy child, another offering waits." 
Was it a dream — a bright, delusive dream — 
That waited but to mock his hoping heart ? 
Oh, no ! oh, no ! and as he quickly gave 



THE REWARD OF FAITH. 303 

Each tender limb to its free life again, 
He felt how real God's great goodness was. 

5jC 5jC ^ ijC 5jC Jji ifC 

Homeward, with quickened step, they took their way, 

Father and son — faithful and given back — 

Until Beersheba met their longing gaze, 

Where well they knew a loving mother kept 

Her faithful vigil for the absent twain ; 

Where they did tell in joy, with tearful eyes. 

Of the rich mercy from Jehovah's hand. 



TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. 



'My Shepherd is the gracious Lord, 

Who rules and reigns above ; 
Therefore my spirit shall not want, 

Encircled by His love. 
Green pastures gives He for my rest, 

And by the waters still 
He leadeth me with kindly hand. 

His promise to fulfill. 

And should my soul rebellious grow, 

Anti stray o'er thorny track, — 
To peaceful paths of righteousness 

He calls me ever back. 
Not for my merits — undeserved — 

Save for His own name's sake. 
My willing feet with joy again 

Their onward pathway take. 



TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. :505 

Yea, though I tread the darkened vale, 

Where clinging shadows throng, 
Still will my trusting spirit raise 

Its happy, pilgrim song. 
No evil will I fear, dear Lord, 

Thou wilt be with me there, — 
Thy rod and staff will comfort me — 

My comfort still Thy care. 

A table Thou preparest for me. 

Whereon my foes may gaze, — 
Still wondering at Thy tender care 

That brightens all my days. 
With oil Thou dost anoint my head 

llicher than Aaron's share, — 
While precious hands rest fondly down, 

And leave a blessing there. 

My cup overflows with riche^;, Lord, 

And thus 't will ever be — 
Goodness and mercy from Thy hand 

Will surely follow me. 
Dwelling in Time, in temples fair, 

To sing Thy praises given, 
Until my feet tread higher courts 

Within the gates of Heaven. 

Peoria, Ilunois. 
20 



TO MARY GIBSON GUIS WOLD, 



On her Sixteenth Birthday. 



The angels poise above thy head 

The crown of womanhood so fair, 
And soon with hopes fresh garlanded, 

Its sunny grace shall linger there ; 
For when thou nuniberest o'er to-day 

The radiant summers thou hast seen ; 
Retracing many a pleasant way, 

Thy happy years are just sixteen. 

Just sixteen years of joyous life ! 

Of sunshine with no shadow near — 
Of hours with fond affection rife — 

Of sunny smiles, with scarce a tear. 
Just sixteen years of watch and ward. 

Such as Love giveth to its own, — 
Such as Earth's favored ones do guard,- 

This hath thy young life only known. 



TO MARY GIBSON ORIS WOLD. 307 

The rosy hours of childhood still 

Wear for thee all their sunny rays ; 
The fragrance of its flowers will fill 

Life's censer, brightening all thy days, 
And memory, with her pencil true, 

Shall keep sweet tokens of the time 
When Earth seemed clad in Heaven's hue, 

And Hope sang out her sweetest chime. 

I send upon this happy day. 

To thee the wishes of my heart, 
That God may guide thy future way. 

And to thee choicest bliss impart ; 
That when the crown which waits e'en now 

In angels' hands for thy young head, 
Shall lose its light upon thy brow, 

A fairer one shall gleam instead. 



SHE HATH PASSED AWAY. 



"Like the lost Pleiad, seen on earth no more.". 



She hath passed away 
From her cheerful home, — from her wonted place, 
That keeps of the lost one full many a trace ; 
The vacant chair, and the silent room, 
Gather around them a deepening gloom ; 
And the memory of accents once uttered there 
Is clothed in a mantle of dark despair. 



She hath passed away 
From the heart whose affections seem ever hid 
'Neath the quiet hush of the coffin's lid, — 
Who mourneth the light of the household gone, 
And wildly longeth to look upon 
The silent lips and the changeless brow, 
Darkened forever in shadows now. 



SHE HATH PASSED AWAY. 309 

She hath passed away 
From the child, who never on earth may know 
Her gentle teachings and accents low ; 
He will not remember the little prayer 
That her lips have taught him to utter there; 
Nor how she knelt at his rosy rest 
To tell the tales that he loved the best. 



She hath passed away, 
And the shining curls of her baby fair 
May rest no more in their beauty rare, 
On the sheltering arm never more be pressed 
With a warm delight to that mother's breast ; — 
Silent, unheeding, and chill, the heart 
That deemed love of life the fairest part. 



She hath passed away 
From the father who loved her ; the mother, whose eye 
Was the guiding star of her infancy ; 
From the sister, whose childhood and youth sped by 
'Neath the hallowed light of the same blue sky ; 
From the fearless brother, so fond and brave. 
Far, far away on the crested wave. 



310 SHE HATH PASSED AWAY. 

She hath passed away 
From the beauty and brightness that deck the earth,- 
From its voices of music and happy mirth. 
Oh ! how can the sun deck valley and hill 
When that lip of melody lies so still? 
How can the floweret in gladness bloom 
When that eye is dim in the voiceless tomb ? 



She hath passed away 
From every sorrow and wearisome pain, 
And her soul shall know no fetter again ; 
Care shall not darken her cloudless brow -^ 
It gleameth in light with the angels now ; 
Nor Time in its onward march ever shed 
A. changing trace o'er that sunny head. 



She hath passed away 
With a seraph's pinion to ypn bright world, 
Where love's shining banner is wide unfurled. 
She walks in triumph the golden streets, 
While the anthem of Heaven her spirit greets ; 
To the light and life of a fadeless day 
She hath passed away, — she hath passed away. 



NEVERMORE. 



Nevermore 
Shall I sec the glance of that sealed eye 
That 'neath Death's shadows in rest doth lie. 
I shall look in vain for the living light, 
Deeply enshrouded in darkest night, — 
For the sunny smile and the spirit's trace, 
Clothing with beauty the pallid face. 



Nevermore, 
For I folded it over the silent breast. 
Shall that greeting hand to my own be pressed. 
In the vanished hours how it welcomed me, 
Wearing fresh garlands for memory ; 
Oh ! gentle hands, will ye nevermore 
Meet me with joy at the opened door? 



312 NEVERMORE. 

Nevermore 
Shall I hear the fall of those quiet feet. 
How often their echoes my soul did greet 
As we wandered so lovingly o'er life's way, 
Nearer and dearer each changing day ; 
Silent and pale in their rest they lie, 
Sad traces of earth's mortality. 

Nevermore 
Shall the ills of life o'ershadow that brow — 
It is crowned with the angels in glory now ; 
We smoothed, all tearful, that shining hair. 
And thought of the beauty that face would wear, 
When unto the lip and the cheek is given 
The radiant light of unclouded Heaven. 

Nevermore 
Shall the loving fade from thy side away. 
When they find thy home in eternal day ; 
Each shining link of love's jeweled chain. 
The hand of our Father shall gather again 
'Mid the light and the life of that fadeless shore, 
Gaining new brightness forevermore. 



THE INNER WORLD. 



'The soul's world, where change is not." — HEMANt.. 



It is a fair and sunny clime, 

Lit up by fadeless light, 
It knoweth not earth's changing day, 

Its weird and solemn night; 
And soundeth ever joyfully, 

Hope's sweet and silvery chime, 
That ringeth blessed changes out 

Amidst the hours of Time. 

Blue are the skies that o'er it bend 

So lovingly and fond, 
That the charmed eye could never ga>ce 

Their radiance beyond ; 
It circles all the heart would know, 

Enshrines a mystery 
Unending as the future bound 

Of man's eternity. 



314 THE INNER WORLD. 

Thought, like a spirit, hovers round 

Its portals fair and bright, 
And to its strange, unfathomed depths, 

Love's presence doth invite 
A welcome guest, to whom is reared 

A deathless, holy shrine. 
Lit up by influences that make 

It seem almost divine. 



And Memory comes with gentle step. 

And lingers at Love's side, 
To garner up the oiferings rich. 

Which it hath glorified ; 
She giveth brightness to fond smiles. 

And beauty to each word, 
That falling from beloved lips. 

Our spirit's depths have stirred. 



A fairy Springtime lingers there, 

And Summer's golden hours 
Glow 'neath a radiant coronal 

Of never-fading flowers. 
The storm-cloud comes not — the stern chill 

Of wmter's icy day 
Stills not its music — as the hours 

Glide placidly away. 



THE INNER WORLD. 315 

The inner world ! ah, who may know 

Its bounds, mysterious, deep ; 
What human thought can fathom it, 

Or o'er it vigils keep. 
No tyrant footstep enters there, 

No hands its idols mar. 
Nor in its blue, o'ershading sky, 

Obscure one shining star. 

The inner world ! So fair, so free, 

It spurns each stern control, 
Yet owns the guidance of the love 

That fills a kindred soul. 
Kept only for His loving eye, 

Who judgeth all aright. 
The busy world may never read, 

Its records clear and bright. 



OUR SOLDIERS. 



God protect them ! * 
In the joyous rosy morning, 

In the fervid noontide hour; 
When the gentle twilight falleth 

With its sweet and soothing power. 
When the golden stars are shining, 

Keeping watch and ward on high ; 
When the midnight doth enshroud them 

With its veil of mystery. 

God protect them ! 
When they walk amid green valleys ; 

When they tread the mountain's side ; 
When their footsteps have grown weary, 

And their brave hearts sore and tried. 
When fatigue, with clutching fingers, 

Shall assail their spirit strings. 
And a cloud seems gathering darkly 

O'er earth's best and brightest things. 



OUR SOLDIERS. 317 

God protect them ! ^ 

When with souls undaunted, fearless, 

To the battle-field they go; 
When they stand amid red carnage, 

Hand to hand with fiercest foe. 
Shield them from the speeding missile, 

From the aim of vengeful wrath, 
From the fierce shot, streaming, pouring, 

Falling darkly 'round their path. 

God protect them ! 
When among the warring legions 

Floats the winged shadow by. 
And the shriek of mortal anguish 

Rises mornfully on high; 
When upon the greensward sinketh 

Manly forms — to rise no more. 
And strong hands grew pale — to give back 

Kindly pressure nevermore. 



God protect them ! 
If their faithful feet shall falter 

'Mid the battle's cloud of flame, 
And their pallid lips shall murmur. 

With a blessing, some dear name. 
Soothe their pillow, — keep beneath them 

Guardian arms of His strong love: 
Woo their dimming eye to gaze on 

Radiant, peaceful homes above. 



318 OUR SOLDIERS. \ 

God protect them ! 
Give them victory, — give them triumph; 

Crown their brows with laurels fair ; 
Guide their homeward steps in safety, 

With their spirits free from care. 
Then upon our hills unconquered, 

Dove-like peace shall fold her wing, 
And our Union, firm, unbroken, 

Be a holy, sacred thing. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 



May 30th, 1879. 



Flowers of the Spring-time ! blossoms of May ! 
Come with your beauty and fragrance to-day ! 
Roses, twice royal upon the fresh air 
Breathe out so gently your gracious life there. 
Hasten, ye violets ! tender and true — 
Lilies, your white waxen petals renew ! 
Laurel and myrtle and jessamine fair, 
In love's sweet mission your bloom hath a share. 



Come to the hillside, where sire and where son 
Sleep in calm glory, with war's conflicts don(\ 
Hasten our soldiers' deep slumbers to crown, 
Won on the battle-field, clad with renown ; 
Come from the lofty height — come from the vale, 
Perfumes unrivalled, and pureness exhale. 
Sparkling with jewels of Heaven's clear dew, 
Crown them with gladness and splendor anew. 



320 MEMORIAL DAY. 

Wave 'neath the azure, ye banners so bright! 

Hymns of devotion and valor recite ! 

Tell to the world how our heroes have died, 

Bearing your colors aloft in their pride. 

Tell it by shore and by murmuring sea ! 

Tell it where manhood is noble and free ! 

Your prestige and grandeur no dark shadow raars,- 

Tell the glad tidings, ye Stripes and ye Stars. 



There are tears to-day for the patriots dead, 
By their grass-grown graves they are sadly shed ; 
And memory calls them to come once more 
From the silent land and the voiceless shore. 
They come ! they come ! — by our side they stand, 
Our " Boys in Blue," with their purpose grand ; 
The kindling light is on brow and cheek. 
And wakened lips their devotion speak. 

There are tears to-day — as m'c number o'er 
Bayonets and glittering swords once more, 
And we see the ranks as they pass in pride, — 
Every lip and brow by love sanctified. 
While the sounding drums and the banners bright, 
Arouse each heart to a glowing might; 
And we bless them all as they march away, 
While the waving colors around them play. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 321 

Brave and determined, they onward go, 
With no cowering fear of a hostile foe; 
And with prowess grand, and courage high, 
They win proud names that cannot die. 
There were manly forms that return no more; 
There were gallant brows, which no years restore; 
There were flashing eyes — now they lustre lack, — 
And faithful feet that come never back. 



But hero in the sunny slope they rest. 

And we scatter flowers o'er each loyal breast, 

Within the sound of their own loved home. 

Where the stars that shone o'er their boyhood come; 

And with martial honors and tearful pride 

We laid them tenderly side by side, 

Where the light of aifection memory holds, 

And wraps the brave in her fadeless folds. 



And so there are tears as we come to-day 

Our tribute of love and thanks to pay. 

We know that the conflict and march are done, — 

That strife is ended and peace is won ; 

We know they were heroes — in danger true — 

That never a shadow of fear they knew ; 

Yet the tears will fall as to-day we stand 

By the silent graves of our soldier band. 



;i22 MEMORIAL DAY. 

All! sweet they sleep on the hillside green! 
Years come ; years go ; yet they sleep serene ; 
Sorrows of earth, which the living know, 
Across their slnmbers no shadows throw. 
There is no grief for the qniet heart, — 
In pain and angnish it has no part; 
Encompassed ever by watch and ward — 
By sheltering wings of an angel guard. 



Nature, with faithl'ul and living trace, 
In sweetest ministry brings her grace; 
Tireless and true (h)(h she gladly come 
In every season to their low home. 
She never fails in the early spring 
Her oiVering of wakened life to bring, — 
And the touch of her pencil is ever seen 
In the violet blue and leaves of orecn. 



She brings the roses of sunnner there, 

And sunset hues of the autumn's share; 

She covers, in winter, the russet glow, 

With the stainless wings of the [)ure white snow; 

While lie who noteth the sparrow's fall, 

With loving care doth enfold them all; 

And the glancing light of omniscient eyes 

Looks still on each faithful sai'rilice. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 32a 

Rest well, rest well, oh ! ye fallen brave, 
Large was the oifering your manhood gave. 
Throughout the borders of freedom's Land, 
Your names like a glorious beacon stand. 
Rest well — till on some memorial day, 
With the stone of the sepulchre moved away, 
We shall wake in the light of Eternal Spring, 
Where no deepening shadows around you cling. 



To-day I think that the ang^^l on high, 
Who keeps the record as Time goes by, 
Looks back o'er tlie pages of vanished years, 
Some fair and stainless — some dim with tears. 
He pauses where battle-fields, one by one, 
Are glowing with traces of duties done; 
And ponders long where each gallant deed 
Hath won for our soldiers a peerless meeil. 

And e'er the record is closed again. 
With untold memories of joy and pain. 
He writeth thus with his glistening pen, 
Of lives which ennoble their fellow men : 
" He who hath offered his life — his all — 
For his country's sake — at the nation's call; 
Though he sleeps in death, or in life doth stand, 
I write him faithful, and true, and grand." 



ON THE HILLSIDE. 



On the hillside sleeps my darling, 

Where all things are bright and fair, — 

Yet the breezes wandering o'er it 
Lift no curl of his brown hair. 

On the hillside sleeps my darling, 

Where sweet strains of music come — 

Strains he loved — and yet their sweetness 
W^ake him not in his low tomb. 

No glad smile lights up his features, 
Save the one that lingered there 

When his spirit passed to heaven, 
To his loving Savior's care. 

• 

His sealed eyes look not a w^elcome 
When fond footsteps linger near; 

Kindred hand gives never greeting, 
Closed ears no dear words hear. 



ON THE HILLSIDE. 325 

Faithful feet so often wander 

To the hillside where he sleeps; 
And a pure and fond affection 

Round his rest its vigil keeps. 



Waiting, watching, thinking ever 
Of the slumbering, youthful head — 

Of thy bygone hours, whose moments 
Gleam with memories of our dead. 



And my heart, so weak, so human, 
Yearns to see him at my side. 

Faithless heart! in its forgetting, 
He hath crossed the swelling: tide. 



He hath gone from care and sorrow,- 
He hath gone where Jesus is ; 

Joyous 'mid the angel legions — 
'Mid the heavenly harmonies. 



Thus I hush each vain repining. 
Calm each wish opposed to Him, 

Who controlled all things wisely, 
Though our vision is so dim. 



;?26 ON THE HILLSIDE. 

t 

Thus I give him back my darling, 

Whose young hfe was linked with mine,- 

Give him back to Thee, my Savior — 
He hath known no love like thine. 



Fold him closely in thy dear arras, — 
Hold his head on thy pure breast, 

Where the wanderer and the weary 
Find a sweet, unchanging rest. 



Never more would I recall him 

Back to earth, whose smiles and tears 

With their alternations grieve us, — 
Thine through the eternal years ! 



With the summer's wealth of fragrance 
We will crown his dreamless rest, — 

Love will keep its tireless virgil 
O'er our early crowned and blest. 



Stream around it, cheerful sunshine — 
Showers and dews fall gently there. 

Come, oh ! Spring, with gentle violet. 
Hither bring thy offerings fair. 



ON THE HILLSIDE. 327 

Watching stars, whose eyes of glory 

Look so calmly, purely down 
Through the lonely hush of midnight, 

Deck it as with golden crown. 



And what wonder if ye see there 
Glittering hues of purest dew, — 

For our darling's missing presence 
Shall not nature sorrow too? 



AN APPEAL FOR THE LETTER CARRIERS. 



To our homes the welcome letters 

Come so surely day by day ; 
Faithful carriers — morn and evening — 

Scatter blessings 'round our way. 
Nothing hinders their fleet footsteps, 

As they take their wonted round, 
Guarding well the white-winged missives 

In their strong protection found. 

Though the summer sun so fiercely 

Sheds its rays upon each head, 
And across each measured pathway 

Heated, scorching gleams are shed ; 
Still unheeding, come they surely 

With the letters — looked for — dear ; 
Bringing to us blessed tidings. 

Words of hope, and love, and cheer. 



AN APPEAL FOR THE LETTER CARRIERS. 329 

Though the rain falls down in torrents, 

And the sunlight fades away ; 
Though the winds are loudly raging, 

Drear the morn, and dark the day ; 
Still unto our homes so sheltered, 

Where the cheering light gleams out, 
Comes the carrier — with firm spirit. 

Treading o'er his leny:thened route. 



Though the snows of winter gather 

Faster and faster 'round his path, 
And the ice-king with his fetters 

Binds the earth in very wrath. 
Though the lips and brow grow rigid, 

And strong hands, like death, are chilled; 
Yet the faithful feet press onward, 

Patient and unyielding still. 



Ye, who by the pleasant fireside. 

Know not winter's bitter hour; 
Ye, whose homeward steps are quickened 

By sweet thoughts of its own power. 
Will you not, with hand of bounty, 

Show a grateful, thankful heart. 
And in ministry of mercy, 

Bear a noble, God-like part? 



330 AN APPEAL FOE THE LETTER CARRIERS. 

When the Christmas time shall greet you — 

When its anthems rise on high ; 
When sweet voices echo 'round you, 

As bright eyes new gifts descry ; 
Then remember, oh ! remember. 

This untiring, noble band ; 
Let no hand remain unopened. 

Let no hearts their chains withstand. 



CHRISTMAS CAROL. 



Down through the vanished ages, 

Along the shores of time, 
We hear the " old, old story," 

Like some melodious chime. 
Millions of silent voices 

Have sung that glorious hymn ; 
Glad eyes have caught its rapture, 

Whose light in death is dim. 

The old, the grand old story, 

Of our dear Savior's birth ; 
The light — divine and holy — 

Which cheered the darkened earth. 
Jesus! who came to save us, 

In pity and in love, — 
Who wore the robe of mortals, 

With pain and care inwove. 



332 CHRISTMAS CAROL. 

To-day we stand with shepherds 

Beneath Judea's skies, — 
We hear from heaven's high portals 

Triumphant strains arise. 
We watch the star, whose beauty 

Doth guide us safely where, 
With deepest awe and wonder. 

We find Messiah there. 



Within a lowly manger 

Is cradled His dear head, — 
In poverty and suflPering 

His infant tears are shed. 
Oh, earth ! is this the welcome 

To your Redeemer given ? 
Is this your royal greeting 

To Christ, the King of Heaven? 



Dear Savior, ever blessed ! 

Upon this day of days. 
We come with loud hosannas 

To sing Thy noblest praise. 
We look from earthly places. 

Where Thy pure feet have trod, 
And hail Thee in Thy glory — 

Ascendine: Lord and God. 



LINES. 



Inscribed to my uncle, Hon. John McKeynolds, on his ninety-first birthday. 



Ninety-one years since the sunlight 

First shone on thy infant brow, 
And thine eyes looked out on the now world, 

Strange happiness to avow. 
Since thy hand, so untired with burdens, 

Reached forth in its new-found power; 
While hearts were happy and cheerful, 

Each hailing thy natal hour. 

Ninety-one years! — and thy pathway 

Has blossomed with hope's glad flowers ; 
Love twined its fair brightness around thee, 

Encircling thy happiest hours. 
Fair childhood and youth — noble manhood, 

And age with its coronal fair, 
Have walked with thee over lii'e's pathway, 

And sheltered thine hours with fond care. 



334 LINES. 

Ninety-one years ! ah, how many 

Fair brows have grown pale in these hours; 
How many dear lips have grown silent, 

And rest 'neatli the pure summer flowers. 
Yet thou, like the oak of the forest. 

Stand still in thy manhood sublime ; 
Tho' thine eyes, looking sadly around thee, 

With tears trace the footsteps of time. 



God bless thee ! forever and ever ; 

And still may His high, bounteous hand 
Encompass thy life with rich blessings. 

Which fall, like the dew, from His hand. 
Still, still may His sunshine fall o'er thee, 

And flowers blossom fairly and sweet; 
Still making thy heart in its freshness 

For His own blessed mansion so meet. 



And when to thy pillow the angel 

Shall come with a summons of love, 
May thou pass through the radiant portal 

To a rest that is sweeter above, — 
Where thy years will glide onward and onward, 

With the loved who have passed on before. 
And never a tear or a sorrow 

Be thine on eternity's shore. 



IN THE HOSPITAL. 



What is his name? 
I know it not — yet some one far away 
Loves him — and of his agony to-day 

No thought doth frame. 

This pallid brow 
My hand shall soothe to charm away the pain, 
Winning a blessed calmness there again, 

To bless me now. 

These sad, sad eyes. 
With light so broken in the battle's storm, 
Weary with looking for a wonted form, 

Look their surprise. 

Lips parched and pale, — 
May I not win from them some little word — 
Some name, amid life's hours of brightness heard 

In home's sweet vale? 



336 IN THE HOSPITAL. 

V And fevered hand ! 

May I not give thee from my strength and life? 
Palsied amid the battle's fearful strife 
As thou did'st stand. 



Fast throbbing heart ! 
Bounding with fever's rapid, scorching glow, 
That no repose or quietude doth know — 

In health no part. 



Shall I not calm 
Thy quick pulsation — sooth each fitful start, 
And bring again to thee a blessed part 

Of peace and balm ! 



These wearied feet, — 
Oh ! be it mine to win them gently back 
To their accustomed ward upon life's track, 

With strength replete. 



No power is mine. 
Savior, to thee I look for strength and aid, — 
Oh ! be thy healing hand upon him laid, 

Strong and divine. 



IN THE HOSPITAL. :«7 

Call back again 
To manhood's noble strenj^th this wasted form — 
So shattered 'mid the agony and storm 

Of fiercest pain. 



Oh ! envied lot, — 
To cheer the sick and suffering — and to pallid lips 
Place the refreshing draught e'er life's eclipse — 

With blessings fraught. 

With gentle hand 
To soothe the fevered brow and aching head; 
With footsteps light amid sad hearts to tread 

And faithful stand. 

Thrice happy they 
Who walk life's pathway girt about with gleams 
That bless the merciful — upon whose vision beams 

Unending day. 



THE MARRIAGE BELL. 



Unfold your glory, oh ! ye flowers, 

Distill your fragrant life above 
The fair young brow, replete with grace, 

That wears the crown of happy love. 
Like showers of blessings gently fall 

Ai'ound the hearts that beat as one ; 
"Whose new, unclouded, happy life, 

With hope and promise has begun. 

Ring o'er their pathway, " Marriage Bell," 

Moments of happiness and joy ; 
Ring in a holy faith and trust, 

Which time and change may not destroy. 
Enshrine amid your blossoms pure, 

Traces of glad and coming years, 
A low sweet prophecy — which tells 

Of sunny smiles unmixed with tears. 



THE MARRIAGE BELL. 339 

Life hath to them been full of hours 

Of light — and pleasure charmed their way ; 
The sunlight, with its radiant rays, 

Hath brightened every passing day. 
Green were the vales and pleasant hills, 

And fair the skies that o'er them shone, 
While not a trace of troublous care, 

Hath their glad spirits known. 



Even now their lips have spoken words 

That floated o'er the golden streets — 
Words which will never cease to sound. 

With love they fondly did repeat 
Words uttered low beneath the skies, 

But heard amid the angels fair. 
And borne in silence to the Throne, 

And given unto Jehovah's care. 



Then ring out sweetly, " Marriage Bell ;'' 

Swing your glad incense o'er the head 
Of youth and beauty — only bloom 

Their happy lives has garlanded. 
Scatter your perfume, rich and rare. 

Before the forms of graceful mien ; 
Leaving thy memory when thy life 

And wakened grace no more are seen. 



310 . THE MARRIAGE BELL. 

Fair bride! whom love with winning voice 

To other walks thy steps doth call ; 
God smile npon each coining year, 

Whose light and shadow o'er thee fall. 
God bless thee ever! thee and thine, 

Surround thee with His kindly care, 
And lead thee with a loving hand, 

Where days are bright and angels are. 



OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR. 



The babe of Bethlehem — whose infant head 

Was pillowed amid poverty and woe; 
No gorgeous hangings 'round his manger bed, 

The warm, rich hues of sheltering comfort show. 
Shut out from homes where plenty reigned supreme, 

In meek submission, blessings to resign ; 
Even Pity hid its warm translucent gleam, 

And Mercy's blessed light refused to shine. 

The Man of Sorrows — on whose saddened brow 

Earth's wearing toil left many a deepened trace ; 
Humanity's prerogative — for man below — 

Near thy divinity it hath no place. 
Thy spirit plumage, pure and white through earth, 

Bore not a pressure mark of life's unrest — 
Breathing forever of thy heavenly birth 

And high perfection, through the fearful test. 



342 OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR. 

The Muii of Sorrows — doubted and betrayed, 

Even by the hearts so near unto thine own — 
By lips that called thee Master — gently laid 

Upon a cheek where falsehood was unknown. 
In the lone garden of Gethseniane, 

Where blessed angels spread the shining wing, 
And with their own seraphic ministry, 

A holy peace unto thy heart did bring. 



The Crucified — who stood on Calvary's height, 

Wearied and worn and toiling with the Cross — 
Triumphant in thine all-enduring might— 

O'er sin and death and earth's enslaving dross. 
Stricken and sorrowful thy Father's face 

On thee with loving smile hath ceased to shine; 
Oh, Undefiled! in earth or Heaven's high place 

Was e'er such love and misery as thine? 



A sleeper 'mid the shadows of the tomb, 

Laid gently in its quietude to rest, 
While its deep shadows and abiding gloom 

Gather above the cold and pulseless breast. 
The darkened eye gave back no loving liglit, — 

The gentle hands, with earth's sad misj^ion o'er. 
Were folded in the rest of Death's dark night, 

To clasp in direst agony no more. 



OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR. 343 

The risen Lord — who burst the icy bars 

Of the grave's prison; soaring far above 
The golden glory of the shining stars, 

Unto the clime of pure, unshadowed love ; 
Welcomed by angel bands to that blest shore. 

Where in effulo-ent liy;ht he ever reio-ns ; 
To take the pilgrim's march of earth no more — 

To know no more its wanderings and pains. 

The Mediator — who, with wondrous love, 

Pleads for the erring at the Father's side, 
Through ceaseless years its mighty strength to prove, 

Infinite still, as ages onward glide. 
Hope of the sad heart — light of dreary ways — 

Joy of the sorrowful — in death the life — 
Theme of seraphic legions, whose glad praise 

Shall sound when earth's dark waves have hushed 
their strife. 

The King of Glory, — through the pearly gate, 

And everlasting doors, he enters in ; 
While loud hosannas for His coming wait. 

And glittering harps their brightness flash within. 
Life's river ripples with a sweeter flow 

As the All-Father owns His mission done ; 
The realm of Heaven doth higher glories know 

In welcoming His well-beloved Son. 



344 OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR. 

The King of Glory, — and His banner waves 

O'er mount and plain, — o'er shore and surging sea; 
O'er polar lands, where shimmer snowy graves; 

'Neath tropic skies, which glare so fearfully. 
The household shelter in the sunny clime, — 

The gleaming brightness on the darkened shore, — 
The whispered key-note of the silvery chime — 

That summons earth to worship and adore. 

Strong be the hands that raise each starry fold 

To plant its standard that the world may see ; 
Loyal the hearts that with proud strength uphold 

That blood-bought banner — stamped on Calvary. 
So shall our earth with one harmonious voice, 

Shout glad thanksgivings to the King above; 
Rejoicing more than angels m;iy rejoice 

Who never sans: His all-rcdeeminir love. 



NORMAN AND PHILIP BOURLAND. 



1873. AiigUHt 2Cth. 1876. 

Tliroo times have purple violets bloomed 

Amid the beauty of the Spring, — 
Lighting the quiet valleys up 

With Nature's fresh glad offering. 
Three times the royal rose hath given 

Its fragrance to the summer air, 
And lillies with their balmy breath 

Swept o'er the earth with perfume fair. 

Three times hath Autumn aloft 

Her signals tinged with Tyrian dyes, — 
While mournful winds were floating by, 

And pale and pensive grew the skies. 
Three times old Earth hath grandly worn 

A snowy mantle clasped with gems, — 
While stream and fountain ceased their song 

To wear their icy diadems. 



;U6 NORMAN AND PHILIP BOURLAND. 

8inoe two fair childrqii Nvoke to life, 

And looked with wondering eyes around,- 
Pure in their infant loveliness, 

With many a charm and beauty crowned. 
Two winsome boys, whose baby brows 

Wore even then a noble seal, — 
Stamped with a promise of the power 

Which future years might well reveal. 



Norman and Philip! names of grave, 

That fit them as a garment — well. 
Were given to them — throughout time 

Their own distinctive life to tell. 
Twin-born — they were the joy and pride 

Of those who loved them passing well, — 
While every day that fleeted by. 

Came with new voice their charm to tell. 



Three years upon each little brow 

Mark with light hand their gentle trace, 
Impressing early childhood's lines 

With infancy's unconscious grace. 
With sturdy limbs and happy hearts 

They wander 'mid the bloom and shade, 
And softly o'er the shining hair 

The gentle hand of love is laid. 



NORMAN AND PHILIP BOURLAND. 347 

So like in face and form they are, 

That one can scarcely ever know 
Whether they look on Norman's brow, 

Or see the eyes of Philip glow ; 
And when their notes of childish glee 

Ring in their freshness gladly out, 
Love scarce discerns whose rosy lips 

In laughter wake the happy shout. 

God bless them Avith his fondest care, 

And keep them safe through earthly ways, — 
From haunting evil and from woe, — 

Giving them pure and peaceful days. 
May little hands few burdens know. 

And little feet walk bravely on, 
Until beneath Heaven's radiant skies 

They stand — with life eternal won. 



DEATH AT SEA. 



Out on the sea — 
Where the wikl billows reared their foamy ercst, 
And wailing winds, in nil their wild nnrest, 

Sighed nionrnfnlly ; 

A ship's prond form 
Sped o'er the bosom of the tronbled waves — 
O'er the nnfathomed depths of Ocean's caves, 

Amid its storm. 

For land and home 
Pined many a longing heart — prayed many a lip, 
As the fierce waters dashed across the ship 

Their spray and foam. 

One with fair brow, 
Whose angel beanty deepened day by day, 
With fading cheek, whose bloom had passed away, 

AVas dvino- now. 



DEATH AT SEA. 349 

Out on the sea ! 
Father in Heaven ! Thy liand alone can save — 
Keep the beloved from an ocean grave, 

They look to Thee. 



There are fond hearts 
Who wait with whitened cheek and })allid lip 
For tidings from their own, — this tossing ship 

Gladness or woe imparts. 



'Neath the blue sky 
Of sunny Italy, — amid its cheering bloom; 
Flower-crowned she went almost unto the tomb, 

Sadly to die. 



And so they bore 
The remnant of her glorious promise back, 
Across the deep and sounding ocean's track. 

To her own shore, 



That she might look, 
Although with dimming eye — and linger yet 
By the sweet beauty of the violet. 

In sheltered nook -, 



350 DEATH AT SEA. 

Might see once more 
The old familiar trees, whose whispering leaves 
Had flung their shadows o'er the cottage eaves 

Above the door : 



Might hear again 
The murmured sweetness of the wonted tone, 
Around her young existence ever known, 

In joy or pain. 



And on her brow 
Feel the calm, soothing pressure of those hands 
For which her spirit pined in foreign lands. 

And prayed for now ; 



And die at last 
With the beloved — who would ever keep 
Their loving vigils o'er her quiet sleep, 

When life was past. 



Home ! blessed home ! 
Thy name her waiting spirit may not keep. 
And calmly, stilly, in her placid sleep, 

Death's footsteps come. 



DEATH AT SEA. 351 

Ah ! never more 
Shall those still feet in coming seasons press, 
With springing life and gushing happiness, 

Her native shore. 



Ah ! never more 
Those darkened eyes will shed their loving light 
Around the home afiPection made so bright 

And glad before. 



Oh ! bitter woe, 
Amid heart-crushing agony and prayers ; 
Not even in Death is the beloved theirs, 

For she must go 



Beneath the wave 
To rest in soundless depths — that silent hall 
Where loving household echoes never fall ; 

An ocean grave ! 



Her Parian brow, 
Kissed by the surging billow, wanders down, 
Though angels keep for it a shining crown 

In glory now. 



352 DEATH AT SEA. 

That graceful head, 
So radiant with its wealth of sunny hair, 
Fades from the vision — seeking sadly there 

Funereal bed. 



Sad, moaning sea ! 
Guard the rich treasure given to thy embrace, — 
Keep the pure beauty of that sleepless face, 

Until to thee, 

In thunder tones. 
Comes the command, "Give up thy dead, thou sea!'^ 
Love's severed links shall re-united be. 

And Death o'erthrown. 



fiPRINGDALE CEMETERY. 



I come to tbc'C, sweet Springdale — shuttinj:; out 
The busy hum and toil of wakened life, — 

The clang and clash of spirit, sounding e'er 
Along the pathway of earth's warring strife. 

I come to thee, — even as a little child, 

Who pines to hear a mother's loving word, — 

In the cuiet beauty of thy shade 

The echoes of that gentle voice are heard. 

Those wonted tones! I hear them all again, 
As long I linger o'er a sleeper's rest, 

Where the green turf in quiet beauty lies 
O'er the calm stillness of a mother's breast. 

My cradle hymn floats through the balmy air. 
Sang by the lips, in death so still and cold ; 

The childish prayer seems syllabled for me. 
As when I heard it in the days of old. 

Ah, mocking echoes! only in light 

Of sacred memory can ye exist; 
For have not I, all tearful, seen the lips 

That breathed them, to Death's slumber kissed ? 



354 SPRINGDALE CEMETERY. 

Have I not heard the last fond word, and seen 
The loving light leave earth to brighten Heaven,- 

Felt the unclasping of that dying hand 
When life eternal to that soul was given ? 

Ah, yes ! and yet I love to linger here, — 
Winning again life's early music back. 

Oh, the sad loneliness ! when its rich tones 

Fade from our pathway o'er life's weary track. 

I love to win it back, though for an hour ; 

Then doth my spirit find new trust in God, 
And gains an onward movement to her home, 

In the same pathway her still feet have trod. 

I leave thy quiet beauty, sacred spot. 
With heart-resolvings to press ever on. 

With the sweet purpose, that each future hour 
Shall bear above some trace of victory won. 

That when I come amid thy pleasant shade, 
And linger with thee never to depart, 

My name shall live in memory — while I 
Shall dwell forever with the pure in heart. 



LETTERS OF THE DEAD. 



My trembling hand can scarce untwine 

The little silken thread 
That clasps in gentle pressure now, 

These letters of the dead ; 
For from each fold there seems to come, 

Smiles, vanished from my sight, 
And tones, whose music faded out 

Amid death's gloomy night. 

Over each sheet, in by-gone hour-s, 

Looked some familiar face ; 
Revealingrs from some chosen heart 

Find here a sacred place. 
And welcome greetings come to me 

In many a faded line, 
That keep through time an influence 

Both changeless and divine. 



356 LETTERS OF THE DEAD. 

This was the prompting of a heart 

Upon her bridal clay ; 
A farowcll to me, from her home 

Ere she had turned away. 
Love's glowing skios hung o'er her path 

Without a passing cloud ; 
Yet ere Death claimed her, that bright head 

In misery was bowed. 



This came to me one summer's morn, 

From one whose heart beat high 
With proud ambition's fevered dreams. 

With glory in his eye. 
I sought to quench the mocking light 

That madly lured him on ; 
He iieeded not — and now his dreams. 

With his young life, are gone. 



This, from a gentle friend whose hours 

W^ere fleeting fast away, 
Come from afar amid the buds. 

And balmy winds of May; 
Only to tell me angel bands 

Were wooing her away ; 
Only to tell me that her trust 

Grew brighter day by day. 



LETTERS OF THE DEAD. 357 

The hand that wandered i)\tr this sheet 

Wa.<* clasped in wild despair, 
Amid a trembling, fearful erowd, 

Who bn-athed a dying prayer. 
Amid old oc(;an's might and strength, 

The ship went down in woe, — 
I fain would shut that vision out. 

As tears mine eyes o'erflow. 

The buried past is with me now, 

Kind words and smiles of old; 
I almost cease to think each lip 

Ilath grown so still and cold. 
Memorials of the hn-ing ones. 

Who o'er life's pathway shed 
The fragrancy of kindred hearts. 

Which dies not with the dead. 

But lingers in its beauty still, 

An angel presence — fair, 
Who with a calm, unsullied wing, 

Dispels earth's clouds of care; 
Who oft amid life's hour doth come, 

The hidden fount to move. 
For the sure healing of the soul, 

Its strengthened faith to jirove. 



THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 



We know that Spring with robes of light is gone, 

We know the violet's meek blue eye is dim — 
That the sweet warblers of the greenwood bowers 

Sing never more the strains of nature's hymn ; 
That buds and blossoms have all passed away, 

Each short life finished — each pure mission done 
That whispering leaves are lying crisp and sear, 

Whose days were ended gently — one by one. 

We know that Summer's long and golden hours, 

Crowned with the loveliness of fragrant bloom. 
Have fleeted by us as a vision bright. 

Down to the old year's waiting, silent tomb. 
The fair and beautiful are garnered there. 

Cut down by the repentless Reaper's hand, 

Gone ! like the glory of the sunset skies, 

To dwell in memory's placid, moon-lit land. 



THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. :i59 

We miss the lingering light of Autumn days, 

Whose mellowed beauty seemed as not of earth ; 
The burnished banners hung o'er shrub and tree, 

And russet gleams, that claimed a higher birth. 
We miss them all — and yet we do not mourn 

Above the radiant glow which has fled, 
Nor do we linger with those by-gone hours 

Time stilly numbers with the sleeping dead. 



We keep no thought of the moments fled. 

Amid December's snowy, transient time, — 
We marvel not around the icy chains 

That crush the captive blossoms in their prime; 
And for the Old Year — weary, wan and pale — 

We yield him up with scarce one fond regret. 
Forgetting how we welcomed him to earth, — 

Forgetting how how we loved him when we met. 



Why is it thus? Were we not wont to weep 

Over the vanished light of vernal hours? 
Did we not ever keep such tender thoujjhts 

For Summer's faded coronal of flowers? 
Have we not sighed, when Autumn's skies were veiled, 

For fleeting beauty that we might not save? 
And longed again for the remembered bliss 

Of days that waked not from their wintry grave? 



360 THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 

Why is it thus? Because upon this day 

The King of Years hath come unto our laud,- 
A royal ruler! — to the purple born — 

He wears his honors regally and grand. 
The nation sings aloud his triumph song, 

Whose echoes float across the listening world; 
And starry banners cluster round his way, 

By every patriot hand they are unfurled. 



Nor can we wait to sigh o'er faded flowers, 

Or mourn o'er Nature's many new-made tombs; 
In all the earth our spirits may not find 

A place befitting well desponding glooms. 
For never have we heard such hymns resound ; 

Never such cheers — such high and lofty cheers 
As those that circle 'round the onward path 

Of the proud monarch of A hundred years. 



Hail, thou Centennial Year ! whose robes so rare 

Were woven in dim ages by God's hand, — 
Whose misty moments, days, and months, became 

Obedient to the power of His command. 
Hail ! hail ! to all thy grandeur and thy grace ! 

Hail ! hail ! to all the coming hours and days ! 
Marked with heroic memories they come, 

Wearing the heritage of fadeless bays. 



THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 361 

Grand cycle! making up one hundred years ' 

Of well-earned freedom — her own jubilee! 
One hundred years the gallant stars and stripes 

Have floated in unfettered majesty ! 
By the blue lake, and by the winding stream ; 

Over the beauty of each grass-crowned hill ; 
Over the sunny Southland, and the North, 

They wave in all their pristine glory still. 



God bless the dear flag of the olden time! 

Heroes and patriots honor it to-<lay ; 
A hundred years ago it seemed the pledge 

Of future faith and hope none might gainsay. 
From sire to son with blessings it came down, 

A heritage to live and die for — won 
On the red field of battle, where stout hearts 

Triumphant stood — with warring foes undone. 



We may not number o'er our joys to-day; 

Joys which have blossomed for a hundred years. 
Stamping the living impress of their truth, 

AVhere not one trace of fear or doubt apjjcars; 
But we may bend before our Father's throne. 

And with our souls refreshed and grateful, tell 
Of the rich mercies of His guardian hand, 

In times when dangers dark our laud befell ; 



362 THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 

Of watch and ward that ever shielded well, — 

Enfolding with its power the noble band 
That stood, as stands the firm unshaken rock, 

For the high honor of their own dear land. 
Heroes of Seventy-Six ! The valiant men 

Whose living names "were never born to die;" 
Like a proud beacon light their prowess stands 

Crowned with the rays of immortality. 



What hand can image forth the wondrous strength, 

And energy divine that filled each soul? 
As with defiant might they onward moved — 

Resisting fiercely bondage and control. 
Who? who shall number o'er the prayers and tears, 

Which waiting angels stilly bore above, 
That the fair boon of Freedom might be given 

TJnto the land so worthy of their love ? 



God gave them victory ! His own bright smile, — 

And every hill and every plain was glad ; 
Rivers and lakes, — e'en cold ocean's crest, 

With brightness more than sunlight's sheen was clad; 
Singing, as on they took their boundless way. 

The happy song that tells the heart so free. 
Of peaceful, smiling homes where plenty reigned 

Beneath the azure skies of Liberty. 



THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 363 

And speeding on for many a long, long year, 

Their music still is heard in numbers sweet, 
Cheering the exile from his native land, 

With voice of welcome stranger steps to greet; 
The quiet stars have wondered from on high 

To see their silvery brightness mirrored there, 
Catching the murmurs of the old, old strain. 

And claiminor kindred freedom as their share. 



Centennial Year! As thou dost proudly take 

The helm, to guide o'er winds and waves to-day. 
Watching the moments as they come and go, 

In the unrivalled splendor of thy way ; 
Look thou abroad upon this glorious land ! 

Vast and extended — great beyond compare, 
It stands before the world's admiring gaze 

The onward march of progress to declare. 



Look back one hundred years, and thou wilt see 

Forests where silence sat in regal state, 
Where weird-like shadows of the waving boughs 

A realm of awe and quiet did create ; 
Now sounds the steps of busy commerce there, 

Her many voices fill the surcharged air, 
The clash and clang of business echo round. 

Leaving such wonders in its impress there. 



364 . THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 

The foreign climes that seemed so distant then, 

Beyond the billows of the sounding main, 
Are linked together novy by the great power, 

Whose lightning whispers, with electric chain, 
Make us one through every day and hour, 

And bid us marvel at the mind of man ; 
Whose strength earth's forces skillfully control, 

Learning from nature each mysterious plan. 



Look at the power of steam asserted now — 

Over the land the shrill, fierce whistle sounds, 
And fleet the horse of iron mould speeds by, 

Annihilating space upon its rounds; 
One hundred years ago the traveler lone 

Through dreary woodlands slowly took his way, 
Dreaming not of the coming time whose light 

Should turn such darkness into perfect day. 



Like network o'er our country lines are seen. 

Where high the mighty engine lifts his head — 
Where showers of sparks, like meteors, come and go; 

Utility and power abroad are shed. 
The quiet valleys and the mountain tops 

Wake from their lengthened slumbers to behold 
Resources gathered from their hidden wealth, 

That win for them a name, and fame, and gold. 



THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 305 

See the vast ocean, covered with the ships 

Whose sails were once so "few and fur between" — 
The fair broad rivers, where the unformed boat 

Then sped so slowly o'er th(!ir glassy sheen. 
Time's wondrous changes, who shall comprehend? 

The march of intellect, expanse of mind, 
Inventive genius, human skill and thought, 

A field for energy and effort find. 



No tyrant treads upon our breezy hills, 

Leaving his scathing impress darkly there, 
Our waving prairies sunny are and free, — 

Free as the babny, fragrance-burdened air. 
No clank of chain, or fetters clasp we hear, 

Making discordant notes in freedom's strain, 
Wringing the sad heart with a haunting fear, 

It never in our land may know again. 



Columbia boasts her honest hearts and true. 

Glowing with warmth, diffusing cheering rays — 
And good right hands, which patient labor shows 

With the just meed of her approving praise — 
Lips that do utter high and fearless truths, — 

Brows which a regal crown might justly wear,— 
Souls that are strong along the darkened paths, 

And with submission cares and sorrows bear. 



36G THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 

Centennial Year ! look on our streams and shores, 

On soundless lakes that ever onward flow, — 
Do they not whisper to thee of the forms 

That glided o'er them, years, long years ago? 
Do they not tell thee of the light canoe, 

Tliat bore the chieftain and his trophies on. 
Whose strange, fantastic trappings — with the brows 

O'er which they waved — are gone, forever gone? 



Where dusky feet once trod dwell flocks and herds, 

That throng the valley and the hillside green ; 
And where the wigwam's curling smoke arose, 

Harvests of waving, golden grain are seen ; 
The reaper's sickle glitters in the light. 

And gathers in its wealth the yellow sheaves ; 
While industry, with strong, enduring hand, 

Full manv an unknown miracle achieves. 



With joy we hear the chime of Sabbath bells, 

With reverential heart we worship God 
With faith and trust we walk in pleasant ways, — 

In paths our patriot fathers humbly trod. 
Their hope, their purpose, and their lofty aim, 

Are to our spirits in full measure given, 
As on we walk beneath protecting Love, 

Up to their home in yonder waiting Heaven. 



THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. ;i()7 

Look on our 8hij) of State, Centennial Year ! 

In added strength it is outriding still 
The raging billow and the loud, fierce wind, 

And every stormy wave of threatened ill. 
No hand may ever take from topmost mast 

The stars and stripes which proudly o'er it wave, 
Or touch the helm where the true pilot stands, 

To guide and govern — confident and brave. 



It fears no breakers, and it fears no foes, 

For where the pilot stands the Lord is near, 
And in His mighty and omniscient power, 

Safe and secure the gallant ship shall steer; 
For well we know that high and over all, — 

Over each kingly fleet and convoy grand, — 
Over each war and strife, and death and life, 

Is our Almighty Father's guiding hand. 



Monarch of many years ! hail, yet again ! 

While the fair land that gives thee welcome now 
Shall smile V)eneath the sunshine, not one letif 

Will fade from the green laurel o'er thy brow. 
No jewel from thy crown shall fall away, 

Less regal robes like thine may never be; 
And through all future time thy name shall sound 

In grandest glory — over land and sea. 



SPRING VIOLETS. 



We planted by his little grave 

The violets of spring; 
Rich heritage is your's, fair flowers, 

Sweet fragrance there to bring. 
Keep fondest vigil o'er that spot, 

Oh ! eyes of Heaven's blue; 
The eyes in quiet slumber sealed 

So loved to look on you. 

It seems a pleasant, soothing thought, 

That as the years shall flee, 
Close, close unto that sacred place, 

Sweet violets ! ye will be — 
Forever clustering round his home 

With loving, gentle guard, 
Above that graceful, childish head. 

To keep sweet watch and ward. 



SPRIXa VIOLETS. 869 

III morning's fresh and rosy time — 

In heated noontide's hour — 
When twilight soothes the wearied earth 

And gently folds the flower; 
When stars put on their golden crown — 

When floateth midnight's veil — 
Ye will be near our loved and lost, 

Sweet offerings of th(! dale. 



Watch o'er that brow, oh ! A^'iolets, 

And o'er that marble cheek ; 
We never heard such pleasant words 

As those pale lips did speak. 
Watch o'er the folded hands — so white, — 

The little feet — so still; 
Xo other steps, however dear. 

Their wonted place can fill. 



Watch o'er those sealed eyes, ye flowers, 

With hue so like your own ; 
The Summer sky they looked upon 

Not one dark cloud had known. 
The gleaming of love's altar fires 

Reflected radiance gave ; 
We kindle them in fondness still, 

Above his little grave. 
24 



370 SPRING VIOLETS. 

Glad sunlight ! where these Violets grow 

Wilt thou not linger long? 
Oh ! untaught minstrelsy, bring there 

Your first, your sweetest song ; 
For ne'er was laid, with tears, away, 

A form more pure and fair 
Than that which finds such pleasant rest 

Amid the violets there. 



LINES 



Inscribed to Miiy Riggs Tyiif?, on her thinl liirthduy. 



When the roses of June 

Were abroad in the land, 
And their fragrance so pure, 

By the soft breeze was fanned, — 
On one bright starry eve 

The angels did bring 
A blossom more lovely; 

'Twas little May Tyng. 



The days glided by, 

And on her young face 
Our eyes loved to linger, 

Its beauty to trace. 
And the sheen of her hair. 

As the Seraphim's wing, 
Crowned ever the sweetness 

Of little May Tyng. 



372 LINES. 



Twelve moons fleeted by, 

And her sunny eyes' gleam 
Enraptured our hearts 

Like the bliss of a dream ; 
While fondly, so fondly,' 

Our spirits did cling 
To the rare infant graces 

Of little May Tyng. 



Time vanished on pinions — 

The days and the years,— 
Each wearing the traces 

Of gladness and tears. 
And still skies of azure 

And sunlight doth bring 
New radiance and glory 

To little May Tyng. 



Three times early flowers 

Have bloomed on her way. 
Three times summer roses 

Their garlands display ; 
Three times have they faded, 

And winter's cold wing 
Swept over the footsteps 

Of little May Tyng. 



LINES. 373 



So loving and thonghtful — 

Such gracious, quaint ways 
So tender and watchful — 

She wins love and praise. 
Our hearts still grow fonder, 

And warmly we cling 
To the fair winsome blossom - 

Our little May Tyng. 



I would that her pathway 

Might ever be bright ; 
I would that her spirit 

Might ever be light. 
May no thorns of sorrow 

Around her life cling, — 
Unshadowed the sunshine 

O'er little May Tyng. 



God bless her forever I 

Our sweet summer child, 
And tenderly lead her. 

Oh, Thou ! undefiled ! 
Across the dark valley ; 

To Thee may she cling — 
Be Thou the sure refuge 

Of little May Tyng. 



374 LINES. 



Then take her forever, 

Immortal and dear, 
Across the streets golden, 

Where angels are near ; 
And teach her through ages 

Thy praises to sing. 
And crown her and bless her, 

Our little May Tyng. 



LINES. 



Inscribed to Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Reynolds, on the twenty-lifth anniversary of 
their inarriasie, l.S.54-187'.). 



1854. 

One summer eve, 
When earth was flooded with the light 

Whose rays of radiance purely fall — 
Fair and unstained as though they came 

Streaming from off the ja.sper wall ; 
When the glad voices of the hour 

Made music that we loved to hear — 
Tones that rang out like silver bells, 

Harmonious, and high, and clear. 

When far and near the regal rose 

Came with its ministry of grace, — 
Glowing with brightest oiferings, 

Each in its own appointed place ; 
When lilies and sweet jessamine 

Gave out their hearts in rich perfume. 
And earth was clothed with loveliness. 

Oh, Paradise! like thine own bloom. 



:^.76 LINES. 

There rose upon that eventide, 

Crowning its calm and peaeeful air, 
The echoes of a marriage vow 

From lips so fervent and so fair. 
A form of pride and manly grace 

A maiden's trusting love had won ; 
And for all coming future time 

Their ways, their aims, their loves, were one. 

Hope strewed around their coming hours 

Its visions beautiful and bright ; 
Faith breathed for them the harmonies 

That gild the earth with rosy light; 
While strangely sweet its whisper fell 

Above their untried, happy way, 
In prophecies of glowing bliss 

To tinge with joy each welcome day. 

187U. 

* * >\^ ;;i ;1^ ;lc 

Many a s])ring-time since have angels 

Written truths on hill and vale ; 
Many a summer, crowned with roses. 

Breathed its own impassioned tale ; 
Many a time the winds of autumn 

Chanted their weird monotone. 
And the white and snowy winter 

Reigned a king upon his throne. 



LINES. 377 

Still those vows of love are spoken. 

Radiant with their own first grace ; 
Faith and trust — the Lord's evangels — 

Keep their own familiar place. 
Years and moments only strengthen 

The sweet ministry, whose deeds 
Make the earth a type perpetual 

Of the liome whence love proceeds. 



Through green valleys, by still waters, 

Steadfast steps walk side by side, 
And the same unchilled affection 

Evermore has been their guide. 
While in peace the calm, blue azure 

Bends above their onward way. 
And the evening-time gives promise 

Of each coming, blessed day. 



Happy twain ! whose willing purpose 

Takes the Spirit as their guide. 
And in pleasant paths of wisdom 

With a holy faith abidp. 
Happy twain ! whose deeds of mercy 

Glide in ceaseless harmony, 
Like the flow of deep, full rivers. 

In their course so strong and free. 



378 LINES. 

Linked by silken bands of kindness 

To the suffering and the sad, — 
Whispering words of consolation — 

Bidding mourning hearts be glad. 
Grand the mission — high the calling ■ 

Thus to comfort and to bless ; 
Wrapping sorrow in the mantle 

Of the dear Lord's tenderness. 



Summer's skies still bend in beauty 

O'er them as they tread life's path ; 
Hopes have merged in blest fruition, 

Though each life some sorrow hath. 
Fragrance still falls purely 'round them 

Sunshine, stars, and moonlight fair ; 
If, perchance, some clouds may linger, 

Silver-lined the shadows are. 



God ! protect them as they wander 

Through the valleys and the heights ; 
Be their safeguard and their shelter 

Through all coming days and nights. 
Mortals fail not to discover 

Earthly strength but broken power ; 
May His hand e'en then grow stronger 

In the mercies of that hour. 



LINES. 379 

Lead them gently, Lord and Savior, 

Till the evening time shall come. 
When its twilight folds around them 

And the Master calls them home ; 
Till the march of life is ended, 

And the opening gates of Heaven 
Show the home — divine — immortal — 

Where the crown of life is given. 



A CHRISTMAS REJOICING. 



Ring out a joyful chorus, 

In numbers sweet, oh, earth ! 
Chant forth in loud hosannas 

Our royal Savior's birth. 
Over the mount and valley, 

O'er forest and o'er plain, 
Awake " the old, old story," 

In loftiest notes again. 

Down through the vanished ages. 

Along the shores of time. 
Like streams of silvery beauty. 

We hear its echoed chime. 
Millions of silent voices 

Have joined the glorious hymn ; 
Glad eyes have caught its rapture. 

Whose light in death is dim. 



A CHRISTMAS REJOICING. :}81 

To-day we stand with shepherds, 

Beneath Judea's skies; 
We hear from Heaven's high portals 

Triumphant strains arise; 
We watch the star whose brightness 

Doth ijuide them safely — where, 
With deepest awe and wonder, 

They find Messiah there. 



Within a lowly manger 

Is cradled His dear head ; 
In poverty and suffering 

His infant tears were shed. 
Oh, earth ! is this thy welcome 

To Christ, the King of Heaven ? 
Is this the royal greeting 

To vour Redeemer given "? 



'Tis said that since that moment 

A beauty hath been given 
To baby brows — a pureness 

Touched with a trace of Heaven. 
That in sweet dreams the angels 

Are o'er them night and day. 
With whispers of rare glory 

That will not pass away. 



:}82 A CHRISTMAS REJOICING. 

That motherhood makes loving' 

And tender motlier hearts ; 
To even life's rough places 

Deep gentleness imparts. 
Since, Mary, on thy bosom 

The infant Saviour slept, 
And thou, with love and blessing, 

Thy first, sweet watches kept. 



With loving, patient spirit, 

Earth's paths the Saviour trod ; 
With willing hands and toiling — 

A man and yet a God. 
Faithful in every calling, — 

With mission high and grand, 
He passed away in triumph, 

To reign at God's right hand. 

Dear Saviour ! Ever Blessed ! 

Upon this day of days 
We come with loud hosannas, 

To swell the royal praise. 
We look from earthly ])laces. 

Where thy pure feet have trod. 
Up to Thy throne of power. 

Ascended Lord and God. 



J CHRISTMAS RR/OICIXa. :,K\ 

High wave Thy royal banner 

Across the wide, wide, world, 
To-day its folds of brightness 

By loyal hands unfurled. 
It shelters well the household; 

It lights the far offshore, 
And sounds the silvery key-note, 

That summons to adore. 



Float high, Judea's banner I 

O'er hosts of earth and Heaven ; 
Display in clouds of beauty 

The fadeless record given. 
Wear well thy holiest lustre, 

That all the world may see, 
Redeemer I Mediator ! 

The names that make us free. 



3n Q^Uenioriain 



PHILIP M. BROTHERSOS. 



DiiHl. January 10. lSi>4. 



Though I have seeu that foir young taco, 
That beamed so late with Life's own graoo. 
Resting beneath Death's shadow chill. 
So silent, motionless and still — 

I know that God is love. 

Though 1 have seen that sunny head 
Rest calmly in its coffn bed — 
Though naught of it remains to me 
Save a few curls and niomory — 
I know that God is love. 

Though, 'mid my teal's and agonv. 
That sealed eye looks no moiv on me 
With that old look of tenderness. 
That shone upon me but to bless — 
1 know that God is love. 



388 IN MEMORIAM. 

Though those cold lips on which I prest 
Fond burning kisses in their rest, 
(lave back no sweet and loving token 
To hearts in sorrow almost broken — 
I know that God is love. 

Oh, folded hands! how Memory bleeds 
As numbering o'er your kindly deeds, — 
Whose outstretched welcome at the door 
Shall come to meet me never more — 
Yet God is ever lov^e. 

And stretches out I^ife's path before, 
Where those hushed feet shall walk no more, 
With bounding echoes on the stair — 
Now here, now there, now everywhere — 
Yet God — our God — is love. 

Hath He not called to pleasant rest 
Upon the fair earth's grassy breast — 
'Neath the glad sunshine — by the side 
Of friends passed to the glorified ? 
And is he not all love ? 

Hath He not soothed eacli pain and grief — 
For agony given sweet relief — 
Removed his ev6ry care and woe 
Which throng each mortal path below ? 
And was it not in love? 



IN MEMORIAM. :;8<> 

Hath He not opened to those eyes 
The fadeless bowers of Paradise ? 
Hath He not wakened to that ear 
The strains which the redeemed shall hear? 
And was it not in love? 

Hath He not taken that youthful hand, 
And led him from a weary land, 
Where he shall sing through countless years 
The love that soothed in death his fears — 
God's never-failing love? 

And though my sad heart may not know 
Why his bright iiead was laid so low — 
Why, when his pathway beamed with light, 
Death quenched its rays in his dark night, — 
I know that God is love 

Hereafter will be known to me 
What now seems darkest mystery. 
And I with rapturous tongue shall bless 
This token of God's tenderness — 
Sent to us in his love. 

Till then, my Father, keep my hand 
Within Thine own — that I may stand 
Close, close beside Thee — and with heart 
Of faith and trust bid fear depart. 
And tell that God is love. 



ANNIS P. BALDWIN. 

"Thou art laid at rest in thy spring-time hours." 

Fair bud of promise ! with the opening bloom 

Folded in quiet beauty 'round thy heart, 
We mourn to give such brightness to the tomb, — 

To deem thee from this earth a thing apart. 
Fancy around thee flung its fondest dream, 

And Hope, full oft, its fairy tissue wove ; 
Bright'ning thy Future with its sunny gleam. 

Blending with hues that deckM thy path of Love. 



Harp of sweet melody ! whose blessed tone 

Around thy home in silv'ry accents fell ; 
Naught can restore that murm'ring music gone — 

No sound on earth thy gentle accents tell. 
A Mighty Hand hath burst the strings in twain ! 

A Mighty Voice hath bid each note be hush'd ! 
And loving hearts shall yearn full oft in vain, 

For wonted strains that 'round their path once gush'( 



IN MEMORIAM. 891 

Father ! we look to thee in this dark hour 

With Faith's clear eye, — with holy hope and trust; 
E'en at Thy side we see this folded flower, 

With bright'ning bloom, amid the pure and just. 
Thou wilt unite the severed chords again, — 

Making immortal music, holier far 
Than that for which Earth's mourners sigh in vain. 

Echoing forever where the angels are ! 

Oh, blessed thought ! that when Life's cares are o'er. 

And we no longer on its billows toss'd. 
In that blest clime, — that glorious, deathless shore, 

We yet may find the early-lov'd and lost; 
That there each golden link from Love's bright chain. 

We deem'd on earth so rudely, harshly riven, 
Shall, with an added beauty, shine again, 

Perfected, all amid thy radiance — Heaven. 



MRS. H. G. WESTON. 



" Another hand is beckoning us, 
Another call is given, 
And glows once more with angel steps, 
The path which reaches Heaven." 

— Whittieu. 



Take her, bright angels, gently now, 

From weariness and pain ; 
That silent heart and changeless brow 

Shall know no cloud again. 
Up to yon radiant, love-lit home. 

Her pure free soul would soar ; 
Take her, kind angels — earthly chains 

May bind it nevermore. 

Oh, spread each bright and shining wing. 

When passing through Death's vale, 
That darkening shadows may not come. 

Her spirit to assail. 
Whisper of Him so tenderly, 

Who that lone pathway trod ; 
Breathe of the blessed homes beyond 

The mansion of our God. 



IN ME ^f OK I AM. =393 



Bear her across the swelling flood 

With a triumphal song, 
While heavenly echoes, floating down, 

The glad notes shall prolong. 
The pearly gates arc opening wide, 

On, on, ye angel band ; 
Behind you frown the waters dark, 

Haste to the better Land. 



What radiance meets her longing eyes, 

As onward still ye go ; 
How brightly gleams life's crystal stream, 

How pure its silvery flow. 
The golden streets and fadeless light, 

The minstrelsy of Heaven, 
Whose strains of sweetness never die. 

Whose choi'ds are never riven. 



Take her, bright angels, gently on, 

Love's banner o'er her floats, 
While seraph strains her victory tell 

In sweet and joyous notes ; 
On ! where our Father reigns — with Him, 

The crowned — once Crucified ; 
For there a robe of fairest white 

Waits for the glorified. 



394 IN MEMORIAM. 

yfi 5|c ?jc ^ >[^ 

The blessed angels bore her on 

Amid that countless throng ; 
They pass the saints and prophets, too, 

And still they glide along. 
They linger not, though at their side 

The blessed martyrs stand ; 
They onward press — a crown of light 

Is in their Father',| hand. 

And there they gently lay her down 

Upon her Savior's breast. 
Forever blest, forever crowned — 

Oh ! happy, peaceful rest ! 
While golden harps rang loud and clear, 

A new-born strain was given. 
To sound the matchless love and power 

That made that home a heaven. 



3IBS. H. P. BENNETT, 

Of Wilkes-Barre, Pa. 



A requiem tone, from fair Wyoming Vale, 

Floats mournfully upon the passing breeze ; 
AVith voice of sadness Nature doth bewail — 

Hanging Grief's sables on her stars and trees. 
It were an offering meet to one who made 

This dull earth radiant with her spirit-light, 
Whose placid soul, with love and faith arrayed. 

Dispelled the clouds of Error's darkest night. 

She seemed an angel in the paths of life, 

With Heaven's own signet gleaming on her brow ; 
Serene and calm amid earth's waves of strife. 

Her barque is moored on shores celestial now. 
Ere the freed spirit plumed its upward flight. 

It shed such rays of heavenly radiance 'round. 
That gleams of glory marked its path of light 

To where she lives forever blest and crowned. 



396 , IN MEMORIAM. 

Oh; mourning husband! vainly falls the word 

That bids thee weep not for the loved and lost, — 
When 'round thy home her voice no more is heard, 

And thy wrung spirit torn and tempest toss'd. 
'Tis well to weep — when even Jesus wept 

O'er the low grave of lost and buried love, — 
Where Memory all her blessedness hath kept, 

A holy grief its precious power shall jorove. 



Joy for the freed one ! never, nevermore. 

With footsteps faint, to falter on life's track ; 
Forever blest upon that fadeless shore — 

Say, would you bring that ransomed spirit back '! 
Ye are not severed — she, with angel-wing. 

Shall come around you with a holy love, 
And on thy life a sacred influence fling 

Until thou meet'st her in the world above. 



And thou, sweet daughter ! o'er whose days has smiled 

The love that knew no shadow or decay, — 
Whose hours by her fond care were oft beguiled ; 

How will you miss her presence day by day ? 
The wonted step that never more may come, 

Bringing rich household music to your ear; 
The gentle words that fell around your home, 

And many a token to the sad heart dear. 



IN MEMORIAM, '.\\)1 

Yet shall that voice be ever round thy life, 

At morn, and eve, and alone mysterious night ; 
'T will strengthen in the world's unceasing strife, 

Gilding thy paths with an unchanging light. 
From the forsaken chair 'twill stilly come, 

And echo 'round the now-deserted room ; 
Each tree and shrub that blossoms round thy home 

Shall shrine her name amid its wreath of bloom. 



And thou, fair boy ! whose young and happy years 

Were shaded by the fond and faithful heart, — 
You never knew this world a vale of tears 

'Till Death that holy, sacred tie did j)art. 
By the sweet memory of the cradle hymn, 

Echoing around thy cloudless infancy. 
And sleepless love that watched the stars grow dim,- 

Be her pure life an amulet to thee. 



Oh ! may the memory of that last sad hour 

Cling to thy soul through the long future days. 
The pressure of that dear hand's dying power, 

The feeble lip that sang the Savior's praise. 
Be it a spell to charm each youthful hour 

From guile and danger, and earth's witching snare,- 
To light thy footsteps with its deathless power 

Up to the world where homes of glory are. 



398 liV MEMORIAM. 

Call it not Death — for such a soul to fling 

Aside the cumbrous shackles of this earth ; 
Call it not Death — for one so blest to wing 

Away to regions of immortal birth. 
Like the sweet perfume of the fading flower, 

Or star that fadeth into radiant day, 
Her spirit calmly passed to Death's dark hour, 

Triumphantly exulting on its way. 

Though hushed the pulses of that noble heart, 

And folded hands lie o'er the marble breast ; 
Though bleeding love from thence Avould ne'er depart, 

Clinging to her low dreamless place of rest. 
She is not there — and it is sweet to think 

She waits above to meet the loved again. 
There may she number o'er each shining link, 

And find perfected Love's own golden chain. 



THE HOUSEHOLD DARLING. 

To Mrs. Geo. M. Higginson, of Chicago. 



" What can a mother in her fondest prayer 
Ask for her darling like the bliss of Heaven? " 



With pure, pale brow, and chiselled limbs it lay, 

More sweetly fair than though a radiant dream 
Dwelt in the soul of Genius day by day. 

Until of angel beauty he had caught a gleam, 
And then embodied it in matchless form. 

A faultless symmetry — so rare a grace. 
You surely deemed the heart with life was warm. 

And sought its trace upon that childish face. 

Yet strangely still — from out those lips no breath. 

Though parted now, as if some pleasant thought 
From out the heart had wandered quickly up, 

And love's expression to the face had taught. 
The little hand essays no more to press, 

With eager joy, a mother's glowing cheek. 
And eyes, whose every beam was but to bless. 

With merry light has ceased for aye to speak. 



400 IN MEMORIAM. 

Sweet bud of beauty ! never^ nevermore, 

May life's stern sorrows mar that angel brow ; 
Moored is thy fairy bark on yonder shore, 

No surging billow can assail it now. 
On thy young head is placed the golden crown, 

Thy triumph chanted with seraphic tone, 
Thy little hand is taught to stray o'er strings 

Whose minstrelsy is echoed there alone. 



Oh ! how the breath of Heaven steals o'er the soul, 

When bending near sweet childhood's coffin bed ; 
Visions of glory the charmed spirit fill. 

And angel forms seem lingering round the dead. 
There dwells in Eden's bower no lovelier form 

Than that enstamped for yonder radiant Heaven ; 
No purer spirits bend before its throne 

Than the fair children thou to God hast ffiven. 



Mother of angels ! rich thine heritage ! 

A holy privilege to thy life is given ; 
Even as you linger on life's darkened shore, 

A golden chain extends to thee from Heaven, 
Mother of angels! oh! transporting thought! 

With guardian spirits ever 'round thy way, 
Life's every hour to brighten and to bless, 

Till thou shalt wake in Heaven's resplendent day 



MRS. W3L BENNETT, 

Of St. Louis, Mo. 



" There is hushed ou earth 
A voice of ghidness — there is veiled a face 
AVhose parting leaves a dark aud silent place, 

By the once joyous hearth. 
A smile hath passed, which filled its home with light, 
A soul — whose beauty made that smile .so bright." 

— Hemans. 



How can I speak of Thee as with dead ? 

Sweet friend! beloved through many a by-gone year. 
That thou art sleeping in the earth's lone bed, 

To my sad heart it cannot yet appear. 
Thy path seemed all so rosy with earth's flowers, 

So sheltered and so guarded from life's woes. 
There seemed no entrance for relentless Death — 

Alas ! his step no barrier may oppo.se. 

Forever quenched is the familiar light 

That fell with gentle lustre from thine eye ; 
Forever hushed the echoes of that voice 

That breathed sweet music in each fond reply. 
How can I brook the thought that never more 

Upon mine ear shall fall the wonted tone — 
That through life's lapses I must list in vain 

For the heart-throbbings ever near mine own? 

£6 



402 IN MEMORIAM. 

Even though the withering truth has seared my heart, 

How fain would I throw off the fearful sound 
That whispers to me, through each day and hour. 

Of thy fair form beneath the grassy mound. 
Not there does fancy, in my musing hours. 

Picture thee ever, lost and cherished one ! 
The grave's dark seal I see not on thy brow. 

Nor pulseless heart with loving mission done. 



But in thy home — thy fair and happy home 

Where smiling love its rarest wreaths had twined 
I see thee still ; I listen to thy words — 

Kind friendship's tone — its sentiments refined. 
I see thee still — the light and life of all — 

Dispensing blessings round thee day by day, 
With gentle words for earth's afflicted ones. 

That brightened many a sad and lonelv Avay. 



God comfort thee, fond husband ! for the love 

That lent such brightness to thy happy lot. 
Though never more shall fall ui)on thy soul 

The heart's outpourings that thy presence taugiit. 
Home's harp is hushed — its strings are silent now,- 

Around thy hearth no more its murmurs fall ; 
Or if, perchance, a low, sad strain is woke. 

Its trembling tones seem like a spirit's call. 



IX MEMORLUf. 403 

Fair children ! on whoso yonnjj;, unclouded souls, 

Death's shadow casts its dark and fearful trace, 
How will you mourn that blessed mother's voice, 

And yearn for the sweet love-light of that face? 
Lambs of the flack ! a father's loving hand 

Must guide you now, — her ministerings arc o'er; 
The eyes are dim that smiled upon your life — 

They wake to earthly happiness no mote. 



No earthly sornjw on that marble brow 

Shall ever come, or furrows of long years; 
Time may not leave his trace upon that liute. 

Nor crush that heart with chilling grief and fears. 
Amid the tresses of that shining hair 

Shall never gleam Time's whitened, silvery thi-ead 
The waves of sorrow may o'erwhelm our souls — 

They cannot reach the peaceful, (juiet dead. 



When life with varying light and shade is o'er — 

When earth grows dim unto my mortal sight,— 
Then may I meet thee, dear one, in that home 

Where the freed spirit gains immortal light'/ 
Will 1 not know that voice, as on mine ear 

It falls amid the minstrelsy of Heaven ? 
Will I not know the teachings of that -mile, 

Though it may wear the look to angels given? 



404 /-A^ MEMORIAM. 

And 'neath the blessing of a father's eye, 

May those that love thee gather, one by one. 
Near thee for aye, in fadeless beauty bloom, 

When death proclaims earth's pilgrimage all done. 
Fancy, amid its fairest, fondest dream, 

Hath never imaged forth the radiant light 
That bathes the soul, when, like a loosened bird, 

It soars to Heaven with upward, joyous flight. 

Bellefontaine ! what sacred trust is thine ; 

A darkened hearth to thee its light hath given. 
Oh ! guard it well, ye bright angelic band. 

And keep it safe for yonder glorious Heaven; 
And as each stricken one in sorrow comes 

By her low tomb, sad, bitter tears to weep, 
Our Father ! wilt Thou sooth them with Thy love, 

That tells " He giveth his beloved sleep." 



RUDOLPHIJS ROUSE WINCHELL. 



•'Wliat can parents, in their fondest dream of hope, ask for their drtrllnt; 
like the bliss of Heaven?" 



The sunny light of thy darling's eye 

Hath faded beneath its lid ; 
The prattling voice, and the happy tread, 

In the silent tomb are hid. 
One place is vacant amid thy home, 

Where sported the joyous twain ; 
One heart is stilled, and to thy caress 

Will nevermore thrill again. 

Lonely and changed seems the darkened home 

Beauty and brightness have fled ; 
Slow pass the hours since the grassy turf 

Pressed o'er that young, bright head. 
A severed string from thy household lyre — 

When its low tones died away, 
An angel hand caught the deathless strain, 

And it sounds in endless day. 



406 IN MEMORIAM. 

Then gaze thou not on the grass-grown mound 

Thy treasure lieth not there ; 
His infant soul is expanding now 

In a home all bright and fair. 
The darkening clouds on each earthly path 

Shall never o'ershade his heart ; 
In the toil and care of Life's weary way 

He shall never have a part. 



Oh ! rich thy privilege, mourning ones, 

Compassed with angel love, 
Whose gentle breathings unto the soul 

It blessedness shall prove. 
They will whisper oft of the glittering crown, - 

Of the wings and the harp of gold — 
Where the tiny fingers fondly stray 

When a cherub's bliss is told. 



M'hen Life with its changing scenes is past, — 

When its days and months are o'er, 
Though he comes not back, you shall go to him, 

And be severed nevermore. 
And as triumph notes tell each victory 

Welcomed to that bright land. 
To thy raptured soul shall thy lost one's voice 

Be sweetest in Heaven's band. 



MRS. N. B. HOTCHKISH. 



"Oh! Vilest are they wlio live and die like her, 
Loved with such love, and with such sorrow mourned." 

— WORDSWr)RTll. 



Up to the portals of" yon radiant world 

We marked thy shining pathway — sainted one! 

And sweetly on our spirit seemed to fall 

Love's deathless strain, that told thy victory won. 

Unto our darkened eye it is not given 
To gaze upon the inner glories there ; 

Ear hath not heard, nor feeble mind portrayed, 
The brightness of tliat home — divinely fair. 

Yet, with a saered trust and holy faith, 
We gaze upon thee in thy glorious home ; 

We see thee in those amaranthine bowers. 
Where dull decay and death can never come. 

The glittering crown and golden harp are thine, 
The seraph voice that chants redeeming love, 

The palm of victory, the robe of light, 

And angel greetings — these are thine above. 



408 IN MEMORIAM. 



Thou art no victor, Death ! though that hushed heart 
May never thrill to love's oft-spoken word ; 

Thine is no conquest — though that gentle voice 
Around the household hearth may ne'er be heard. 



Thou hast but freed the never-dying soul, — 
Thrown off the cumbrous shackles of this clay ; 

Thy hand was chill — yet 't was a guiding one 
To the unshadowed clime of endless day. 



Bereaved husband ! from thy path of love 

The flowers have faded — and how vain the word 

That bids thee mourn not for the loved and lost, 
When the beloved voice no more is heard. 



Those tears are holy ! He, the Undefiled, 
Bending in sadness o'er the lowly tomb, 

Wept for the vanished step and parted smile, 
Even though His voice dispel the dreary gloom. 



An angel presence is around thy paths, 

Hearest thou not whispers of its own bright Heaven ? 
Thou wouldst not call the ransomed spirit back, 

When unto it such bliss, such life, is given? 



TX ME MORI AM. 40iJ 

Her vanished life vv-as a sweet melody, 

Whose deepening tones shall charm each future hour, 
The echo of whose full, harmonious chords. 

Shall linger 'round thee with a deathless power. 



And \e, around whose young and happy years 
Fell the sweet influence of that mother's heart, 

Oft will you yearn for that familiar voice 
That made to each of life so fair a part. 



Fond was the love that ever gently smiled 
Around the paths it was a joy to bless ; 

Warm was the kindly heart that day by day 
Poured forth its wealth of woman's tenderness. 



That mother's voice I its tones can never die — 
At morn, at eve, and 'mid the silent night, 

'T will sound amid the world's conflicting strife, 
To soothe Life's path with liove's undying might. 



Gentle its whispers from the vacant chair — 
Even as of old will its fond murmurs be ; 

'T will calm the spirit with its wonted tone, 
Brighten with hues of immortality. 



410 IN MEMORIAM. 

By the sweet memory of the cradle hymn 

That echoed 'round a cloudless infancy ; 
By the hushed lips that taught the lisping prayer, 

May her pure life a charmed remembrance be. 

Departed friend ! within our hearts shall live 

A lasting record of thy lovely life ; 
A guiding star thy memory shall be — 

Shining serene amid earth's waves of strife. 

Things fair and bright shall shrine thy cherished name; 

Affection's hand shall crown thy place of rest, — 
And while, Avith tearful eyes, we mourn for thee. 

Our souls rejoice that thou art crowned and blest. 



3IRS. ELIZABETH WILSON, 

» Of Cadiz, Ohio. 



"How blest are they who live and die like her, loved with such love, and 
with such (sorrow mourned." 



Amid the Summer's golden hours 

A requiem tone is heard ; 
It cast grief's shadow o'er my soul, 

And sorrow's fount is stirred. 
A requiem tone for one beloved, 

Whose blessed life is o'er, — 
Whose pleasant smile and loving words 

Shall cheer us nevermore. 

Alas ! that from that kindly eye 

Death veils the sunlight fair; 
Expression, with its magic light, 

No longer lingers there. 
The beautiful unheeded blooms 

Around thy placid rest; 
Unheeded — though an offering 

From those who love thee best. 



412 IN MEMORIAM. 

Alas ! that pale and motionless 

Above thy pulseless breast, 
Thy meek hands gently folded lie 

In their unbroken rest. 
Full many a gentle deed was theirs, 

And many an act of love, — 
The prompting of thy noble hearty 

That thrills with joy above. 



A spell was thine of magic power, — 

The master spell of mind, — 
That stamps thine image everywhere 

Thy name shall be enshrined. 
Time breaks it not, nor Lethe's wave 

May o'er it darkly roll, 
Its harmony can never die, — 

The music of the soul. 



Thy home, now lone and silent grown, 

How will it speak of thee? 
The darkened room — the vacant chair, 

Keep thy dear memory. 
The flowers that shed their fragrance 'round. 

The sunshine and the shade, 
Bear many a tender trace of thee. 

Amid Death's sleepers laid. 



JN MEMORIAM. 41^ 

Farewell, beloved and cherished friend, 

I ne'er on earth may meet 
Thy welcome form which did so oft 

My coming footsteps greet. 
I shall not see the gentle smile 

I loved so well to see. 
Nor listen to affection's words 

Breathed tenderly for me. 

Yet, in that world beyond the stars, — 

Thine own eternal home — 
There Love's lost links again unite. 

Where no destroyers come. 
Faith whispers I shall find again 

The friend my soul doth mourn, 
With glittering crown, and golden harp, 

On angel's pinion borne. 



TO MRS. A. F. CURTENIUS. 

On the (loiilh ot her mother. 

Placid and lovely she lay at rest 

With meek hands folded above her breast, 

And it seemed, as we looked on her marble brow, 

That the kindred angels were bending low; 

For over those features there seemed unfurled 

The radiant light of the upper world ; — 

A seraph's bliss did our spirits trace 

In the peaceful smile on that sleeper's fatic. 

The eye was sealed — it had turned away 
To gaze on the light of unshadowed day ; 
It looked even then on the fadeless flowers 
That gem with glory the Eden bowers ; 
By the crystal brightness of Life's pure stream, 
Reflecting the beauty of Heaven's own beam, 
Never to know, through Eternity's years. 
The blighting sorrow of earth's sad tears. 



IN MEMORIAM. 415 

Those silent lips — with earth's accents done, 
Heaven's rapturous melody had begun, 
And while Love mourned for their wonted tone, 
Echoed in bliss 'round our Father's throne. 
Oh, joyous lips ! ye will murmur no more 
The changeful numbers of life's dull shore; 
To the loved and loving ye ne'er shall tell, 
With a voice of sadness, a last farewell. 



O'er the heart whose throbbings had died away, 
The gentle hands in their calm rest lay ; 
And affection sorrowed, that never more 
It should meet their clasp at the open door — 
That the throbbing head and the brow of pain 
Should know not their soothing press again. 
Oh, stricken hearts ! in their home on higli. 
They strike a harp-string whose tones ne'er die. 



Quiet feet ! resting side by side — 

Ye were resting then with the glorified ; 

Ye had crossed the wave with the boatman pale,- 

Ye passed in triumph the shaded vale. 

Oh ! who that loves thee would win them back, 

Again to weary upon Life's track? 

Who would call to its pathway those happy feet 

That tread in glory each shining street? 



41G IN MEMORIAM. 

We know, thou crowned one, thy rest is won, — 
Life's cares are ended — its mission done ; 
Yet bleeding love for thy voice doth yearn — 
For the step that never more may return. 
It pines for the light of remembered smiles. 
And looks through tears on those starry isles, 
Where Faith enshrines thee forever more, 
In the cloudless beauty of Heaven's fair shore. 

Memory shall keep thee with loving grace 
In thy wonted home and familiar place ; 
It will keep the music of childhood's hour. 
The treasured beauty of bud and flower. 
No link shall be wanting — no echo gone — 
Thy lip's pure harmony still sounds on, — 
Soothing the hearts that have loved thee well, 
With its magic murmurs, its mighty spell. 



CLARA ESTELLA COPPEL. 



Died, February 7, 1864, aged five years and three inomlis. 



Light rest the turf on that young brow, 

Sealed in the rosy years for Heaven ; 
[t weareth radiant beauty now — 

Unfading grace to it is given. 
Time hath no power to leave its trace, 

Nor sorrow its deep furrow there, — 
Gathered to its angelic home 

Amid the bright — the pure — the fair. 

Sweet be the sleep of those pure eyes, 

Whose light illumed hearth and home ; 
Beyond these changing skies of ours 

What fadeless beauties to them come. 
Their sunny light shall never dim — 

They ne'er shall shed earth's bitter tears; 
But added glory, day by day, 

Is their's through the eternal years. 



418 IN MEMOKIAM. 

Calm be the rest of tliose dear hands, 

With blessed mission early done, — 
Whose ministration gentle — kind — 

A fadeless memory hath won. 
Folded above the childish heart, 

Where naught but purity did dwell, — 
Where, 'mid life's keenest agony. 

Above them breathed love's last farewell. 



Oh ! darkened home, where comes no more 

That lovely vision of delight — 
Where comes no more those soft white arms, 

Clasped 'round thee loving morn and night,- 
Where comes no more that sunny smile — 

That voice of happy, childish glee — 
Thouo'h cheerless seems thv loneliness, 

Thy God a strength and staff shall be. 



And sacred memories shall come 

Of one so early crowned and blest; 
The folded lamb — forever safe 

Upon the gracious Savior's breast. 
While Faith with undimmed eyes shall look 

Upon the angel-guarded shore, 
And bright revealings till the soul, 

Of homes where death shall come no more. 



JAY P. IIOTCHKISS. 



His voice is hushed,— and yet we hear 

Its wonted cadence still, 
Enshrined amid things fair and bright — 

Familiar vale and hill. 
Yea! though the deep and surging scu 

Doth sound its requiem tone, 
From home, and hearth, and kindred hearts, 

Its echoes are not gone. 

His eye is sealed, — and yet we see 

Its genial, pleasant ray ; 
Death hath no power with ruthless hand 

To bear such light away. 
The wave hath kissed all lovingly 

Those youthful eyes to sleep ; 
Yet ever on our spirit's shrine 

Their memory we keep. 



420 IN MEMORIAM. 

His hand are folded, — yet we seem 

To feel their wonted clasp ; 
No foaming billow may undo 

Their warm, requited grasp ; 
Their gentle deeds are with us still, 

We never can forget 
Their earnest welcome — their adieu, 

When last on earth we met. 



His feet are quiet, — yet we hear 

Their bounding measure still, — 
Their echoes have not died away 

Along the singing rill. 
It seemeth but as yesterday, 

Ere care his heart befell, 
He wandered, in his boyhood's haunts^ 

Through sunny slope and dell. 



He sleepeth — not where kindred hands 

And loving hearts may come 
To strew affection's offerings 

Above his quiet home ; 
Not by his cherished mother's side, 

Who blest so oft her child ; 
Not where his own fond father sleeps. 

Who o'er his childhood smiled. 



IN MEMORIAM. 421 

He sleeps beneath the ocean's wave, — 

Its foaming billowy crest 
Sweeps all unconsciously above 

His placid, peaceful rest. 
Within the Savior's circling arms 

His young life passed away 
From earth's unquiet, troubled paths, 

To radiant, fadeless day. 



Oh, sighing deep! guard well the form 

That hath a home with thee I 
Keep fondest vigil over it. 

Oh, sobbing, restless sea! 
When wilt thou give us back again 

That smooth and shining hair? 
That folded hand — cheek, lip, and brow? 

That footstep on the stair? 



Thou answerest not, — yet He who dwells 

Enthroned in power on high, 
Who scans the little sparrow's fall 

With His omniscient eye, 
Shall say to thee, with mighty voice, 
" Give up the dead, thou sea ! " 
The missing links of love's bright chain 
Shall re-united be. 



MRS. EMILY D. AIKEN. 



Inscribed to Mrs. A. J. Cole. 



Close the dear eyes — they have turned away 

To look on the light of a fairer day; 

They have turned away from the flow^ers that fade, 

To bowers where the seal of God is laid 

On the bloom that never shall change or die, 

'Mid the kindling beauty that glows on high. 

Love will vainly yearn for their wonted light, 

It is dim in the shadows of Death's dark niirht. 



Fold the pale hands o'er the silent heart, 
No more in life's duties they bear their part; 
In the vani.shed hours they have clasped thine own, 
And a fond affection to thee made known. 
They have welcomed thee at the open door, 
But their pressure warm thou shalt know no more. 
Fold them so gently — with loving thouglit 
Of their lessons of calm endurance taught. 



IN MEMORIAM. 423 

No more shall anguish o'ercloud that brow, 
It is crowned witii the seraphs in glory now; 
Smooth softly above it the shining hair, 
And think of the beauty it now doth wear; 
Think of the glory of her radiant home. 
Where cares and suffering can never come — 
Of her new found peace on the blessed shore, 
Resplendent with beauty for evermore. 



Her gentle life was love's sweet ministry, 
A precious memorial 'twill be to thee; 
Her patient spirit that murmured not, 
Bearing with meekness pain's weary lot — 
The days of childhood and youth's glad hour, 
How are they hallowed hy memory's power ; 
Linked to a love so changeless and pure, 
The love that is constant, and deep, and sure. 



The lost and the loved ! Why should tears be shed 
When the turf hath covered our precious dead? 
When they stand secure on the other side. 
Beyond the river with surging tide? 
When life's care and sorrow, and toil is done ? 
When its battles are ended and victory won? 
When the fountain of tears God's hand hath sealed, 
And eternal glory and peace revealed ? 



424 IN MEMORIAM. 

Life's sea is stormy — full many a sail 
Is tossed and torn in the tempest's gale. 
Is it not well, when all danger's past, 
The outward-bound reaches home at last? 
Should we weep for those who the haven find, 
Where skies are sunny and anchors bind? 
Where the oar is dropped from the weary hand, 
And they rest in peace on the shining strand? 

Oh, no ! Oh, no ! we will call them blest. 
Safe and secure in their changeless rest ; 
Happy to cross, with the angel guide, 
The rolling waves of the mystic tide. 
To know no sadness, or grief or care, — 
To wear the robes which the saints shall wear ; 
To stand in the presence of Him who died 
That we might be crowned and glorified. 



MRS. MARTHA R. H0TCHKI88. 



"There is hushed on earth 
A voice of glad iiess — there is veiled a face, 
Whose purling leaves a dark and silent place 

By ihe once joyous hearth. 
A smile hath passed which tilled its home with light — 
A soul, whose beauty made that smile so bright. 

— Hemans. 



She hath passed away from her wonted place, 
That keeps of the dear one fall many a trace; 
The vacant chair and the silent room 
Gather around them a deepening gloom, 
Hoarding fond memories day by day, 
Of her light and life who hath passed away. 



She hath passed away — from a loving heart — 

We deemed her presence life's better part; 

He raourneth the light of his household gone, 

And longeth so vainly to look upon 

The silent lips and the sealed lid, 

From the tear-dimmed eyes that are ever hid. 



426 IN MEMORIAM. 

She has gone from the child that never may know 
Her gentle teachings and accent low ; 
Oh! will he remember the little prayer 
That her lips have taught him to utter there? 
Will lie think how she knelt by his rosy nest 
To tell him the tales that he loved best? 

The shining curls of her baby fair 

May rest no more, in their beauty rare, 

On the sheltering arm, — never more be prest 

With a warm delight to that mother's breast, — 

Silent, unlieeding, that faithful heart. 

That in love's ministry bore sweet part. 

The father who loved her — the mother whose eye 
Was a guiding star of her infancy; 
Sisters whose childhood and youth sped by 
'Noath the same pure light of affection's sky ; 
Brothers who miss her will look in vain 
For the step that never more comes again. 

Gone from the beauty and brightness of earth — 
From its tones of music and happy mirth, — 
How can the sunlight deck valley and hill. 
When that lip of melody lies so still? 
Can the Spring's sweet flowret in beauty bloom, 
When the eye that loved them sleeps in the tomb? 



7/V MEMORIAM. 427 

Gone from sorrow and wearisome pain, 
Her spirit shall know no fetter again ; 
Care shall not darken her cloudless brow, 
It gleameth in light with the angels now, — 
Now, Time in its changeful hours ever shed 
His silvery trace o'er that youthful head. 

She hath passed in glory to yonder world. 
Where Love's broad banner is wide unfurled; 
She walks in triumph the golden streets, 
While the anthems of Heaven her spirit greets; 
To the radiant light of a fadeless day, 
The pure and lovely hath passed away. 



CHARLIE a MERRIMAN. 

Inscribed to those that loved him. 



"Thine still in Heaven. 



Charlie ! with the sunny hair 
Clustering round a brow so fair; 
Thou, so sweet to look upon, 
To the voiceless tomb art gone. 
Silent now that voice of glee, 
Love's remembered melody ; 
Changeless now that placid face, 
Where the angels leave their trace. 

Charlie ! with the gentle eye, 
And lashes deep that once did lie 
Upon a cheek all fair and white, 
Whose lips fond kisses did invite. 
Thy heart is hushed, — thy life is o'er; 
Thy presence cheers fond hearts no more ; 
They gave thee to thy resting-place, 
A form of rare and purest grace. 



IN MEMORIAM. 42§ 

Charlie! in thy Savior's arms, 
Safe from sorrows and alarms, 
Thou art sweetly resting now, 
With new glory on thy brow. 
Happy child, on life's dull track 
Ejrly hath thy feet turned back — 
Little pattering feet, whose sound 
Made glad music all around. 



Charlie ! bleeding love will turn 
From the tomb, though it must yearn 
For the blessings of thy life — 
From the bitter dying strife ; — 
Turn to gaze upon that brow. 
And the crown that decks it now ; 
Turn to hear the harp of gold 
As thy perfect bliss is told. 



Charlie ! from thy radiant home, 
Come in happy dreams, oh, come! 
Come with waving, angel wings! 
Come with unheard whisperings! 
To the hearts that loved thee best, 
Weeping o'er thy dreamless rest ; — 
Hearts that vainly, wildly yearn, 
Sainted child, for thy return. 



430 iiV MEMORIAM. 

Charlie ! with the gentle eye, 
When a few short years are by, , 
Loving ones shall go to thee, 
Joining Heaven's minstrelsy, 
Through eternity's long hour 
To sing of matchless love and power ; 
To number o'er love's links again. 
And find a golden, perfect chain. 



MARY RUTH CHASE, 

Second daughter of Rev. Dr. Chase, died at Jubilee. 



' She hath gone home —gone home. 
Joy to thee happy friend; thy bark 
Hath passed the rough sea's foam." 



Her years had only known a rosy morn, 

That tinged life's way with fair and radiant light, 

Cheering the opening vi.sta wMth its rays, 

Crowning the future — beautiful and bright. 

When the dark angel marked her for his own, 
And turned her feet from wonted paths aside, 

And as a lily broken in its bloom. 

She bowed so gently her young head, and died. 

She gave up meekly that fond mother's smile 
That gleamed so oft above her couch of pain j 

Her tireless love, with vigils never o'er, 
In the blest trust to meet in joy again. 



432 IN MEMORIAM. 



She could unclasp that father's guardian hand, 
Leading so gently o'er life's wonted way ; 

For Faith, with angel whisper, ever told 
Of love's reunion in unfading day. 



She could resign the blessed household love, 
Whose clinging fervor told its mighty power ; 

All the sweet memories and the gentle words 

That thronged around her childhood's sunny hour. 



She could lay down the jeweled crown of love 
Resting in beauty o'er her girlish brow ; 

Untwine the wreath that Hope so fondly wove, 
And to the coming of the angel bow. 



Through the dark valley went she forth alone, 
Nor feared the shadows gathering ever there; 

Beyond the darkness shone a radiant gleam, — 
A prelude to her soul of mansions fair. 



She heeded not the waters, cold and deep, 
That laved her spirit in her onward way; 

Jesus sustained her with His mighty arm, 
And clad her soul in shining white array. 



IN MEMORIAM. 433 

Amid the courts of Heaven lier voice is heard; 

There her free spirit swells its strains of love. 
Earth hath no power with its enslaving chain, 

To mar that perfect blessedness above. 

Be glad, oh ! ye that loved her, that life's woe 
May never cloud that pure and trusting heart; 

Be glad, oh ! ye that loved her, that she bears, 
In the high jubilant of Heaven, a ])art. 



S8 



MRS. E. M. HANCOCK. 



Oh, waiting angels, by the pearly gates ! 

Were not your harps to sweetest music stirred 
When down the valley, o'er the waters dark, 

The triumph song of our beloved was heard? 

Were not the glittering portals opened wide, 
When, clasped within the Savior's loving arm, 

Homeward she came from all life's woes and cares, 
Never again her spirit's bliss to harm ? 

Gentle and pure — the joy of loving hearts. 

Who crowned her with the fairest wreaths of love; 

She hath left all, in her unclouded years 
To be a dweller in the clime above. 

Fond and protecting was the manly hand. 
Clasped closely to her own in joy or woe ; 

She hath resigned it with a pressure warm, 

Though it shadowed blessings on her life below. 



IN MEMORIAM. 435 

The soft, sweet cadence of her baby's voice 
Could not detain her from the angel shore; 

With holy faith and trust she laid it down — 
She loved it well — she loveth Jesus more. 



She gave with calmness up her mother's smile, 
That shone o'er her young life with ray so true; 

With fervent spirit and triumphant tone, 
She breathed, in tender accents, life's adieu. 

Her own fond father, whose proud, happy eye, 
Hath marked with joy her young, unsullied life, 

Gave back to God his precious jewel lent, — 
Praising His name amid death's bitter strife. 



Her fair young sister's voice, in tearful tones, 
Vainly implored her longer yet to wait; 

Love's links had bound them closely — yet her soul 
Passed in its glory to the shining gate. 



Her own dear brother, — he whose kindly voice 
Spake of the words of Jesus — of his love; 

She hath gone from him with a holy trust, 
To find him yet again in bliss above. 



436 IN MEMORIAM. 

She faltered not — with pure and steadfast trust 
She sought in triumph yon unfading shore. 

Oh, waiting angels ! lier exultant feet 
Retrace their pathway never, nevermore. 

Uncounted memories lingered near her way, 
And gleamed with glory her effulgent track ; 

Yet, would we keep her spirit from its bliss. 
Or call it in its ransomed glory back ? 

Never, ah, never! when a few short years 
Shall take their -way to the eternal world, 

Full many a kindred step shall walk with her. 
O'er the glad streets with many a gem impearled. 

Gathered unto her home of glorious love, 

Soon shall she welcome dear familiar smiles, — 

Remembered household strains shall greet her soul 
Amid the splendor of the fadeless isles. 

Our Father! when this changeful life is o'er, — 
When those she loved on earth beside her stand, 

May her pure eyes, lit up by Heaven's own light. 
Look on a blessed, — an unbroken band. 



LINES. 

On the death of Rev. Dudley A. Tyng. 



'• llis was a death whose rapture high 
Transcended all that life could yield. 



On Zion's lofty tower approving eyes 

Xiooked wonderingly and oft, for there did stand 
On the proud battlement so near the skies, 

A form of manly graee and strong right hand. 
With footsteps lirmly planted — with a heart 

Glowing with iioly love and Faith divine, 
His daily teachings were of Heaven a part, 

And its pure radianc3 on his life did shine. 

From that high tower of Zion rang a note, 

A trumpet tone of no uncertain sound. 
And as its echoes far and wide did float, 

To the charni'd ear they seemed with glory crowned. 
Thrilled were the heartstrings of the listening world, 

As gazing on with rapture and delight, 
They saw love's banner by his hand unfurl'd. 

Waving triumphant from that lofty height. 



438 IN MEMORIAM. 

So like his Savior ! on his youthful face 

Humility enstaraped its fairest seal — 
Impress of loveliness ! the outward trace 

The spirit's inner beauty to reveal. 
Even as he trod the daily paths of life, 

There seemed unto his heart a foretaste given, 
In freedom from earth's spirit-dimming strife. 

Of the calm bliss that crowns the soul in Heaven. 



Still floats that banner of the Cross, but he 

Of fearless heart, God's messenger of grace, 
No longer stands to tell its victory — 

By that proud standard hath no more a place; 
'T was but a step from that high tower to Heaven, 

Around its height gleamed many an angel's wing, 
And as the Savior's guiding hand was given, 

The strain was heard which only seraphs sing. 



In the bright morning of his years, when hung 

Uncounted numbers 'round his youthful feet, 
Listening to hear the teachings of his tongue, 

With perfect trust each syllable to greet, — 
Tearful, we saw him borne triumphant home, 

Putting aside life's bright and undrained cup, 
From out the shining gates no more to roam — 

The Master needed him, and called him up. 



IN MEMORIAM. 439 

Smitten of God, we gaze afar to Heaven 

As though our yearning hearts might win him back, 
Forgetting in our grief the glory given, 

That makes his future one effulgent track. 
Until there comes across our longing vision. 

Gleams from the brightness of angelic wings, 
Bearing him onward o'er that clime Elysian, 

Where purest joy at every footstep springs. 



There comes sweet echoes of that strain immortal, 

Whose wondrous beauty ear hath never heard, 
Woke for the ransomed at the golden portal, 

While many a shining pinion there is stirred. 
Back float the numbers o'er the surging river. 

Hushing the waves in angry tumult tossed, 
Down through the valley do the deep notes quiver,- 

The vale is passed and Jordan's water crossed. 



Full many a jewel decks the starry crown, 

Placed by the father on his gentle brow, — 
Full many a saved one, with him bending down 

Before Jehovah's throne, shall bless him now. 
His faithful lips had told the deathless story 

Of Jesus' matchless love — His bitter cross — 
At which they knelt to win a crown of glory, 

Learning to count all else but worthless dross. 



440 IN MEMORIAM. 

We mourn the silence of those sealed lips — 

So true in life and death unto their trust; 
We mourn with many a tear the sad eclipse, 

Of noontide brightness shrouded in the dust. 
Yet shall revealings soothe the saddened spirit 

Of the freed soul — its joyful, glad release, — 
Of the rich treasures which it doth himself — 

Of its unshadowed love — its perfect peace. 

Countless the sacred treasures memory keeps 

Of that blest life — so fraught with angel deeds; 
O'er his low grave a world in sadness weeps, 

And Zion's heart with keenest anguish bleeds. 
Long may his teachings linger in each heart, 

Leading so gently to the throne of God, 
In angel blessedness to bear a part. 

In the sure pathway that his feet have trod. 



LINES. 



Upon tho death of Mrs. Itichard GrcKg. 



Around the Fsithcr'.s raclinnt throne 

Waved many an angel wing, 
And strains of glorious minstrelsy 

Woke ceaseless echoing; 
While starry crowns of flashing light 

Revealed their jewels rare, 
Cast lowly at Jehovah's feet 

To sh<'<l their brightness there. 

High rose the songs of the redeemed — 

The countless white-robed throng — 
Who safely through the valley passed, 

In Jesus' strength so strong; 
And never wearied — never faint — 

The glad, triumphant feet, 
That wandered in their happiness 

O'er many a shining street. 



442 IN MEMORIAM. 

The Father spake, and in high Heaven 

No murmur'd tone was heard ; 
The golden harps had ceased to be 

By angel fingers stirred; 
The waiting seraphs near the throne, 

With folded pinions stood, — 
Prophets, apostles, martyrs, too — 

In one vast brotherhood. 



The Father spake: "Ye angel bands 

Who gladly do my will, 
And with a guardian care protect 

Earth's wanderers from ill — 
Go forth from yonder pearly gate, 

Nor deem your mission o'er 
'Till the beloved one shall stand 

On life's celestial shore. 



" Hover around her couch of pain 

With visions fair and bright; 
Whisper unto her sinking soul. 

How blest this home of light; 
Gently, oh ! gently, loose each chain 

That binds her heart to earth, 
And upward woo her dimming gaze 

To hopes of heavenly birth. 



IN MEMORIAM. 443 

" On earth she missed a father's love, 

That o'er her childhood smiled, 
Whose kindly tones and gentle deeds, 

So often blessed his child. 
Tell her the pure in heart shall meet 

In blessedness again ; 
The severed links of love unite 

To form a perfect chain. 



" The love-light of a mother's eye 

Was from her vision lost; 
The gentle rays, the guiding star, 

When on life's billows tossed. 
Tell her how bright that kindred glance 

Gleams 'neath a crown of gold — 
How sweet the harp's awakened tone, 

As her pure bliss is told. 



" She hath wept bitter tears above 

The little coffin bed, 
As sad and mournfully the lid 

Closed o'er each sunny head. 
Her heart-strings quivered when fair brows 

Were given unto the dust; 
Though in the darkness of that hour 

Faith bore its holy trust. 



444 IN MEMORIAM. 

"Tell her that in these Eden bowers 
Her missing buds expand, 
Kept ever 'neath the watehiul care 

Of their fond Father's hand ; 
Their fragrancy shall greet her here, 

Their bloom know no decay; 
Oh ! bear her o'er the swelling wave,- 
Bright angels, haste away." 



On shining wings they sped afar. 

With joy their mission hailed ; 
They came unto the well beloved. 

Whose cheek disease had paled. 
With radiant light they filled her soul, 

And o'er her spirit shed 
Such gleaniings of the better land, 

That doubt and darkness fled. 

They whispered of her household flowers 

That grew in beauty there; 
Of parted smiles once lost from earth, 

Kept for her spirit there ; 
Of calm repose in loving arms 

Upon a Savior's breast, 
When life's stern battles all are o'er, 

And weariness finds rest. 



JN MEMOJilAM. 445 

And day by dny licr check grew pale — 

Her trusting faith grew .strong; 
And day by day licr spirit caught 

The angels' whispered song. 
Visions of untohl loveliness 

O'er her pure soul were shed, 
As radiant forms kept watch and ward 

O'er that meek sufferer's head. 



And thus they won her gently home, 

E'en though love's strongest tics 
Twined round her heart, as if to keep 

Her back from Paradise. 
At last she gently turned from earth, 

And with a soul elate, 
With holy love and peace she passed 

Up through the shining gate. 



When the glad earth the new year hailed, 

She joined the angel band, 
And hastened I'rom the shores of Time 

To the eternal land. 
They bore her home so joyfully, 

From dark disease and pain ; 
Far from the pilgrim path of life 

She may not tread again. 



446 IN MEMORIAM. 

Oh, glorified and happy one ! 

Whose earthly life is sealed, 
Eye hath not seen the fadeless light 

Unto thy soul revealed ; 
Hath gazed not on the cloudless skies, 

Which o'er thy pathway bend; 
Forever blest, forever crowned, 

My lost, my angel friend. 



PASSING OVER. 



Frank Brolherson Tyns, died February 19, 18G0, aged four years and seven months. 



Boatman pale, thy coming bark, 
Soiindeth o'er the waters dark, — 
Now it moors upon Life's shore, 
Hushed is now the plashing oar; 
Sad and silent dost thou wait — 
Thine will be be a precious freight; 
Even a dear and ciierished form — 
Guard it well from wave and storm. 



Boatman pale, these closing eyes 
Gleamed like stars in yonder skies, — 
Smiles, that lit up home and hearth, 
In their azure depths had birth. 
They have turned from earth away 
But to look on fadeless day ; 
We will know their light no more — 
Bear them safe to yonder shore. 



448 IN MEMORIAM. 

Boatman pale, these childish lips 
Grow so pale in life's eclipse ; 
Memory treasures many a word, 
Many an accent love hath heard ; 
They will learn the strain of love 
From the Seraphim above ; 
Earth shall know their tones no more 
Bear them safe to yonder shore. 



Boatman pale, these little feet 
Pattering 'round made music sweet ; 
We shall listen, but in vain. 
Ne'er shall come that step again. 
Soon so closely they will rest 
Lovingly upon earth's breast. 
Bounding by our side no more — 
Bear them safe to yonder shore. 



Boatman pale, these gentle hands 
Soon will clasp with angel bands; 
We have loved them with a love 
Mightier than Death will prove. 
Take them, hold them tenderly, 
Stilly folded let them be. 
Oh ! in this, our parting hour, 
Deal thou with compassion's power, 



IN MEMORIAM. 449 

And the boatman, pitying, mild, 
Gently took our little child. 
Kissing soft his cheek and brow, 
Soothing pain and suffering now. 
Ere the bark had gained yon shore, — 
Ere had ceased the plashing oar, 
Sounds of welcome floated out, 
Angels breathed their triumph shout. 



Brightly gleamed our darling's eye 
As those echoes floated by ; 
Glories were to him revealed, 
From our clouded sight concealed ; 
Visions of that radiant land 
Greet him as they gain the strand ; 
Fadeless and resplendent light 
Shows a pathway fair and bright. 



Loving hands have seized the prow, — 
Loving arms enfold him now ; 
Upward to the shining gate, 
Quick they speed, nor longer wait ; 
Onward, onward, — at the side 
Of the Crowned — once crucified — 
Pause they, — for the Lord hath smiled 
Sweetly on our precious child. 
89 



FRANK BR0THER80N TYNG. 



Put away the little coat — 
Ah ! how loving hearts did dote 
On the childish form it clad — 
Beauty rare and grace it had. 
Never shall we gaze with pride 
On that form love glorified. 
Lay his little coat away 
On this sad, memorial day. 

Little cap, worn by the head 
Resting gently with the dead, 
Tears fall o'er thee — thou didst rest 
On a brow beloved and blest. 
See we now the soft, smooth hair 
Gleaming out so brightly there. 
Put his little cap away 
On this sad, memorial day 



IN MEMORIAM. 451 

Take his books he loved so well, 
Many a trace of him they tell — 
Marks where he hath lingered long, 
Pleased with melody and song. 
Sunny eyes each picture knew, 
Memory kept their impress true. 
Put each little book away 
On this sad, memorial day. 



Every block and treasured toy 
That were once his daily joy ; 
Little knife, so treasured up — 
Plumed cap and graven cup — 
We will each memento keep 
Of our darling fallen asleep ; 
We will put them all away, 
On this sad, memorial day. 



On that fair, seraphic shore. 
He hath need of these no more ; 
Fairer than that put away 
Is the robe he wears to-day. 
Resteth now his shining crown 
Where the little cap pressed down. 
Childish hands find sweet employ 
On the harp-string sounding joy. 



452 IN MEMORIAM. 

. Tenderer than mother's care 
Is around him ever there ; 
Cherubim and seraphim 
Spread their starry wings o'er him; 
, On the Shepherd's loving breast 

Hath our folded lamb found rest; 
We will think of this alway, 
On each sad, memorial day. 



COMPENSATION. 



" He hath'psissed away from all that dims the tearful eye; from all that calls up 
the sigh of sorrow aud sadness. They only live whose life is immortality," 



Though we miss from home and hearth 

His young voice of happy mirth ; 

Though through silent room and hall 

Echoes not his joyous call ; 

It is blessedness to know 

That on high those accents flow — 

That not one discordant tone 

From those lips shall e'er be known. 

Though no more with fall so sweet, 
Come to us those bounding feet ; 
Though their echoes died away 
Sadly on one winter's day ; 
Did they not with joy elate, 
Seek their home through golden gate? 
Oh ! what blessedness to know 
That they ne'er will weary grow. 



454 IN MEMORIAM. 

Though so dim have grown those eyes, 
Once like stars in summer skies ; 
Though our spirits have bewailed, 
Sunny light in shadows veiled ; 
Would we turn their gaze away 
From unending fadeless day? 
On that happy, peaceful shore. 
Tears are for those eyes no more. 



Though no more that little hand 
Greets with joy a boyish band, 
And the heart with sorrow bleeds, 
Numbering o^er its gentle deeds, 
It shall know no line of care, 
As the years speed onward there; 
It no farewell clasp shall know 
'Mid his joy's perpetual flow. 



We who mourn him linger still, — 
Sorrows may our life-cup fill ; 
Ours may be the aching heart, 
Ours on earth a weary part. 
We may see 'neath coffin lid 
Pleasant smiles and dear forms hid. 
From such sorrow he is free, 
Through a long eternity. 



IN MEMORIAM. 455 



We who mourn him yet must go 
Where death's chilling waters flow ; 
Through the valley, all alone, 
Must our failing steps be known. 
He hath passed with angel guide 
Safely to the heavenly side ; 
Shining wings were o'er him spread 
While the vallev he did tread. 



We who mourn iiim blindly go; 
He the light of Heaven doth know. 
At the portals of God's gate 
Our tired feet may vainly wait. 
While he hath j)assed gladly in. 
Free from sorrow, free from sin ; 
Safe from sad temptation's power, 
Safe from dana;or's darkest hour. 



Radiant spirit ! Home's sweet dove ! 

Nestled in that clime of love, 

Did we not so blindly go, 

Not a tear for thee should flow. 

Tears! when thou hast gained the shore 

Where the spring time fades no more — 

Called home in thy purity, 

Crowned and blest ! no tears for thee. 



FRANK BROTHERSON TYNG. 



Happy feet ! 
Treading now each shining street. 
They have turned in joy away 
From the path we tread to-day ; 
Languidly they ne'er shall go, — 
Weariness, they ne'er shall know ; 
Taken from our loving side, 
God is now their blessed guide, 

Happy feet ! 

Joyous eyes ! 
Ye have gazed with sweet surprise 
On the gates of pearl and gold, — 
On the radiance ye behold; 
On each flashing, shining wing, — 
On each harp with sounding string ; 
Closed upon earth's fading flowers, 
Opened on perennial bowers, 

Joyous eyes ! 



IN MEMORIAM. 4.bl 

Crowned brow ! 
Bathed with Heaven's glory now, 
Not a line of toil and care 
E'er shall mark life's changes there ; 
Sealed in beauty ere one cloud 
Had that spirit dimmed and bowed; 
Yet again our lips will press thee, — 
Yet again our hearts caress thee, — 

Crowned brow ! 

Little hands ! 
Clasping now with angel bands, 
Sculptured seemed the smooth white palm, 
Folded in their rest so calm. 
Thus they ever shall remain, 
Never marred by toil or pain. 
Round our Father's radiant throne 
We shall clasp them to our own, — 

Little hands ! 

Angel child ! 
Who life's every hour beguiled, 
Dost thou ever keep above. 
Thine own smile and brow of love? 
Yes, oh, yes ! that spirit light 
Could not fade in death's dark night. 
Seraphs bore the gem on high. 
Stamped with immortality, — 

Angel child ! 



HON. H. H. LEAVITT, 

Of Cincinnati, Oliio. 



When mine eyes were sad and tearful, and my heart was 

sick and sore 
With longing for dear footsteps that had found the angel 

shore ; 
When the coffin lid closed over sunny curls of light-brown 

hair, 
And my lips were chill with kisses won in passionate 

despair ; 

When I turned with heart of anguish from a grave so 

newly made, 
Where our beloved, in his bloom, was stilly, sadly laid ; 
When our household hearth grew silent, and its cheerful 

light was dim, — 
Quenched with the gushing tear-drops that fell fast for love 

of him ; 



IN MEMORIAM. 459 

Then from thee there came unto me words of comfort, — 

words of trust, — 
Pointing to each precious promise of our Father good and 

just,— 
Words that told me of a mansion by His loving kindness 

kept 
For the child, who on Death's pillow, so calmly, sweetly 

slept. 

And thou toldest of a mansion when the toils of life are 

o'er, — 
Of a glad and joyous meeting on the far Eternal shore, — 
Of one more white-robed angel added to the host above, — 
Of one more sounding harp-string, and one more voice of 

Love. 

And now, when lips are silent, whose music blessed thy 

life — 
When fond eyes have lost their love-light amid Death's 

bitter strife, — 
When true hands are stilly folded above the silent breast, 
And the grave hath won thy dear one to its dreamless, 

quiet rest ; 

With the same sweet words of comfort, which thy spirit 

gave to me, — 
With the never-failing promises of God — I come to thee ; 



460 IN MEMORIAM. 

They are clothed with fadeless beauty,— they will cheer, 
and they will bless ; 

Sweet token of thy Father's love, His power and tender- 
ness. 

And I would tell thee of the bliss thy cherished one doth 

know, — 
Of her shining, cloudless pathway, where life's waters 

brightly flow, — 
Of the white robes that she weareth as she stands before 

the throne, 
Where, amid the saints and angels, she — the pure in heart — 

is known. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 



Died April 15, 1865. 



Thrice hath the spring-time with light feet 
Trod hill and vale with oiFerings sweet ; 
Thrice hath a coronal of flowers 
Been twined abov^e the summer hours; 
Thrice hath the autumn's gorgeous dyes 
Hung like proud banners 'neath the skies; 
And thrice the winter's stainless snow 
Spread its white wing o'er joy and woe, 

Since death with stealthy traitorous blow, 
The nation's hope and pride laid low ; 
Taking from out his faithful hand 
The sceptre of a high command ; 
Hushing the throbbings of that breast 
Whose thoughts and counsels, ever blest, 
Unchanging faith in Heaven did prove, 
And won from foes a trust and love. 



462 IN MEMORIAM. 

Backward we gaze — o'er hill and plain 
Doth wind a vast funereal train; 
Like to a triumph march it seems, 
Like battle's sheen its brightness gleams. 
Crowned with a wealth of fragrance rare, 
The Chieftain's head is pillowed there, 
And the fair sunlight seems to fall 
Subdued and conscious o'er the pall. 



Thus was he borne, three days ago. 
Amid his country's tears and woe ; 
With slumbering eye and folded hand 
He came unto his home — his land — 
And thousands waited for him there, 
With stricken hearts and brows of care ; 
The martyred one! whose precious life 
AVas vanquished in Death's bitter strife. 



He found a calm unbroken rest 
Beneath the skies he loved the best. 
Rest ! for the faithful weary feet. 
With their high mission all complete. 
Rest ! for the patient toiling hands — 
From duties stern and life's demands. 
Rest ! where unto his grave might come 
The lingering shadows of his home. 



IN MEMORIAM. 4(53 

And tender hands — the fair, the brave, 
Crowned with affection's gifts, his grave ; 
Brightness and bloom to it were given, 
Whose grateful fragrance rose to Heaven ; 
While fast the burning tear-drops fell, 
Awakened by the wondrous spell 
Of his pure life, so sanctified — 
In sorrow's furnace fires so tried. 



Upon this sad memorial day. 
Let sweetest memories bear sway ; 
Count o'er his virtues one by one, — 
His acts of noble duty done. 
Tell of his life, so pure, so true. 
Whose influence fell as falls the dew, 
To cheer, to strengthen, and to bless 
With its refreshing gentleness. 



To-day throw wide the pond'rous door ; 
Unseal the coffin's lid once more ; 
Let the light breeze steal gently there, 
To lift the locks of his dark hair. 
And gazing on that pale high brow 
That wears immortal laurels now, 
And on the lips so still and cold, 
Whose strains beyond the veil are told, 



464 IN MEMORIAM. 

Let many a voice so tenderly : 
" Oh, Lincoln ! Lincoln ! still for thee, 
Uncomforted, thy country weeps, 
And with fond love thy memory keeps. 
She writes thy dear and blessed name, 
High, high, upon the roll of fame. 
And chants no hymns of liberty 
Whose sweetest strains are not of thee." 



To-day around your peerless dead. 
Stand, Illinois, with reverent, head ; 
Kneel in your noble manhood there. 
And breathe a humble, suppliant prayer. 
Rise with a firmer, stronger will, 
His aims and purpose to fulfill — 
To walk in paths his true feet trod, — 
Though strewed with thorns, they lead to God. 



LITTLE CARO. 



Inscribed to Mr. iiiid Mrs. II. B. Dox. 



She was a child of fondest love, 

Upon whose brow the winds of Heaven 
Might scarcely linger — watch and ward 

So faithful to her life were given. 
Affection strewed her path with flowers, — 

Its hand plucked every thorn away. 
And only in the pastures green 

Might this dear lamb, permitted, stray.. 

She was a pure, sweet household dove. 

Whose snowy plumage bore no stain^ 
Who nestled lovingly and safe, 

Encircled by Home's golden chain. 
Around her clustered many a hope, — 

For her aro.se Love'^ holiest prayer, 
That in the all-protecting arms 

She might be kept with tenderest care. 



466 IN MEMORIAE. 

Her sunny curls hung round a brow 

That gleamed with infant loveliness; 
And those red lips ! how sweet their words, — 

How did they cheer, and sovothe, and bless. 
Now would they whisper some quaint thought,- 

Now breathe some happy, glad refrain ! 
Oh, rosy lips ! shall earth ne'er know 

The music of your tones again? 



When Autumn's gorgeous banners waved 

Their glory on the plain and hill, 
And slower, sadder, was the flow 

Of river, stream, and singing rill; 
When Summer's brightness was forgot 

In the rich splendor of the dyes 
That garlanded each tree and shrubj 

And brighter clad the sunset skies; 



Then, like the beauty of a dream. 

Her sweet life gently passed away ; — 
She closed her childish eyes on earth 

To gaze upon unclouded day. 
The little, pattering feet grew still, 

Their echoes faded from life's track. 
And when Love pressed those rosy lips, 

They gave no answering token back ! 



IN MEMORIAM. 467 



Alas ! how much of life and love 

Was shrined beneath that coffin-lid ! 
How much of blessedness and hope, — 

Of brightness and of joy was hid. 
Dear Saviour, had not thine own head 

Pressed the lone pillow of the tomb, 
We could not lay such loveliness 

Within the chilling shade and gloom. 



Light rest the turf on that young brow, 

Sealed in its early years for Heaven ; 
It weareth now a radiant grace — 

Unfading life to it is given. 
Time hath no power to leave its trace, 

Nor sorrow place one furrow there, — 
Gathered unto the Angel's home. 

Amid the bright, the pure, the fair. 



Sweet be the sleep of those dear eyes, 

Whose glances lit up hearth and home ; 
Beyond these changing skies of ours 

What fadeless beauties to them come. 
Oh, happy eyes ! that never more 

Shall weep earth's bitter, hopeless tears, 
To wear the joy and light of Heaven 

Throughout the long eternal years. 



4(58 2N MEMORIAM. 

Calm be the rest of those white hands, — 

Those hands so dimpled and so pure, — 
Their blessed mission all fulfilled, 

They have no burdens to endure j 
Clasped meekly on the childish heart — 

Like sculpture seems the smooth, soft palm ; 
No toil or pain shall mar their rest, 

At once so blessed and so calm. 



Oh, Angels ! guard the little feet 

That lie so stilly side by side, — 
The little feet that crossed the wave, 

And stand amid the glorified! 
The little feet that ne'er will stray 

From out the tender Shepherd's fold, — 
That tread in their new happiness 

The streets of jasper and of gold. 



The home is sad where comes no more 

That lovely vision of delight! 
\Vhere comes no more those soft, white arms, 

Clasped round thee, loving morn and night; 
Where comes no more that sunny smile, — 

That voice of happy, artless glee! 
Oh, darkened home, amid the gloom 

The Lord a light and strength shall be. 



IN MEMORIAM. 46S) 

And 8\vcet tlic nieniorics that shall come, 

Of one so dearly crowned and blest — 
The precious child — forever safe 

Upon the gracious Saviour's breast; 
While Faith's clear eye shall ever see, 

Upon the Angel-guarded shore, 
The glad young feet that walk in light, 

And know the paths of earth no more.- 

Come early, Spring's sweet violets, come! 

To breathe your fragrance o'er her rest; 
Linger, oh Summer's brightness, long 

Where she doth sleep — the early blest! 
Glad sunshine! lay thy golden crown 

Upon that spot where Love shall weep. 
And all things fair in earth or Heaven 

Around it I'aithful vigils keep. 



ANNIE GRI8W0LD TYNG. 

Born September 17th, 1858, died July 10th, 1870. 



• " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." 



" She shall hunger no more: neither ihirst any more; neither shall the snn light 
on her, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the Throne shall feed 
her, and shall lead her unto living fountains of waters; and God shall wipe away all 
tears from her eyes. ' ' 

One starry night in summer time, 
When nature rang her vesper chime, 
Through pearly gates that open wide 
To welcome home the glorified — 
The angel child to us once given, 
Went back unto her native Heaven, 
While many a white and shining wing 
Made bright the path of Annie Tyng. 

Oh, seraph ! who dost upward bear 
The f'ragrancy of fondest prayer, 
Did e'er such fervent pleadings stir 
Thy spirit as were breathed for her? 
Were ever cast before the Throne 
Such fond beseechings? Ever known 
Such anxious hopes as love did bring 
For the dear life of Annie Tyng? 



IN MEMORIAM. 471 

But not for earth that brow of love ; 
Not for this earth our household dove; 
Too pure to dwell where deepening shade 
Upon the fairest things is laid. 
We loved her, but we could not save 
Those childish feet from Jordan's wave; 
Nor could we from the valley bring 
The homeward steps of Annie Tyng. 



We laid her fair and sunny head 
With tears upon its coffin bed, 
And smoothed with tender, loving care, 
The clustering locks of dark brown hair. 
Like flowers whose petals fold at night. 
The sealed lid veiled her eyes pure light, 
And Death soft shadows seemed to fling 
Upon the brow of Annie Tyng. 



Her folded hands so meekly lay 
Upon her bosom — matchless they — 
Like chiseled marble spotless white. 
Love's fond last kisses to invite. 
Sweet, sweet, had been their ministry 
Of gentle deeds — which memory 
Shall give a fair, eternal spring. 
In thoughts of thee, dear Annie Tyng. 



472 IN MEMORIAM. 

Upon her lips some pleasant strain 
Seemed lingering to sound again — 
The lips we loved, whose every tone, 
Like a glad melody was known. 
Such pleasant words they always spake ; 
Such harmony and peace did make; 
Such comfort and such joy did bring 
Those silent lips of Annie Tyng. 



Safe through the rolling river's tide, 
Her quiet feet lay side by side ; 
With life and loveliness complete, 
They walked in Joy the golden street. 
From out our tears our lips did say : 
These precious feet can never stray, — 
Time shall no weary moments bring 
To the glad steps of Annie Tyng. 



Where comes the fairest sunlight, where 
Calmness floats on the summer air. 
Where peaceful shadows steal around, 
And memory makes it holy ground. 
We laid our precious child to rest, 
With bloom and fragrance on her breast ; 
Affection there its wealth shall bring 
To crown thy slumbers, Annie Tyng. 



IN ME MORI AM. 473 

Dear Savior, if wo did not know 
That through the valley Thou didst go 
With our beloved, how could we 
Thy boundless love and mercy see? 
But we do knaw that thy fond arm 
Was 'round her, shielding from all harm; 
We know how safely Thou didst bring 
The pilgrim feet of Annie Tyng. 



We thank Thee for the happy years 
Of her pure life, where no sad tears 
Fell round her pathway; for each word 
From her dear lips which we have heard ; 
For the sweet clasping of that hand, 
" A fresh spring in a weary land ;" 
For these and many a sacred thing 
That blest the life of Annie Tyng. 



We thank Thee for her patient soul, 
Her stainless spirit's sweet control ; 
For her young life's sweet ministry. 
Whose glad aif'ections turned to thee; 
For the bright record of the time. 
When, with a faith and trust sublime, 
She passed from earth on angel wing, 
Our peerless child — dear Annie Tyng. 



COL. LUCIEN HAMILTON KERR. 



"Sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust — he fell asleep 
Like one that draws the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." 



When the glad New Year came to earth, 

He welcomed it with joyful heart, — 
He heard its chants of triumph sung. 

And in its haj)piness bore part. 
No shadow fell across the path 

Which Hope had garlanded with flowers ; 
No strain discordant mingled with 

The music of those pleasant hours. 

Spring came to him in robes of green, 

With buds, and leaves, and wakened bloom 
Its balmy breath o'er hill and vale 

Dispelled the winter's clinging gloom. 
Nature, with volume opened wide. 

To him her harmonies revealed ; 
Her shade and sunlight, showers and smiles, 

Unto his spirit were unsealed. 



IN MEMORIAM. 475 

To him the radiant Summer time, 

Crowned with its wealth of golden hours, 
Came with rare beauty — lingering long 

Amid its fragrance and its flowers. 
The violet gladdened him — the rose 

Gave freshness from its royal heart, 
To brighten and to bless the path 

In which his daily life had part. 



But when the Autumn days had come, 

With their serene and pensive grace, 
We saw with stricken, mourning hearts. 

Death's shadows rest upon his face. 
Amid the glories of the time, 

When mellowed skies wore tranquil light, 
Death touched his heart-strings — and his lips 

Were sealed in sad and voiceless night. 



Now, when around all hearts doth steal 

The echo of the angels' hymn. 
That, rising o'er Judea's plains. 

Came down through ages vast and dim ; 
When the pale year, with broken lyre, 

A requiem sounds for each lost hour. 
He heeds them not — the silent grave 

Hath won him with resistless power. 



176 IN MEMORIAM. 

Yet from his brow Death could not take 

The unchanged, glorious look of life, 
Nor quench the light expression gave 

In one sad token of its strife; 
It could not change the spirit's seal 

Of faith, and trust, and victory won, — 
Of Heaven's own rest, so calm and pure,- 

Of toil, and care, and sorrow done. 



Oh, Friend ! so noble, true, and brave ; 

Thou with high soul and fearless heart! 
Who, in thy Country's darkest hour. 

Bore such heroic, faithful part. 
Ne'er to a foeman didst thou yield, 

Save Death ! whose fatal, icy hand " 
Subdues the world with chilling touch 

And power no mortal may withstand. 



Thou sleepest where, from early morn 

Until it fades in clouds of night. 
The sunshine falls above thy rest. 

And crowns it with its golden light. 
Thou lovedst it well when it baptised 

Thy brow with its own living trace, 
And gave its kindling, glorious rays, 

To clothe the earth with higher grace. 



JN MEMORIAM. 477 

A fairer sunlight greets thee now 
Upon the fair eternal shore, 

Where blesssed moments eome and go, 
Nnnibered by changeful time no more; 

Sunlight, whose beams resplendent shine 
On gates of pearl and jasper walls, — 

Where Life's pure waters keej) each ray- 
That o'er their beauty brightly falls. 



A higher life awaits thee there — 

Unfettered by the chains of earth, 
Where intellect with tireless will 

SluUl know no want, nor spirit's dearth; 
Where the expansive soul may find 

Employment for its noblest powers, 
And drink high inspiration in 

Throughout the never-endinjr hours. 



We hail thee there ! beyond life's sea; 

Its storms are o'er — its dangers past; 
Beyond the tempest, and the wave, 

The whelming tide, and raging blast. 
How safe the haven thou hast found! 

How bright the skies that o'er thee bend! 
How perfect, and how pure the peace 

That knows no bhadow and no end ! 



LITTLE MATTIE, 

Born September 4th; died September 21st, 1871. 



Inscribed to Mrs. Martha B. Reynolds. 



She lay within her mother's arms 

One calm and peaceful Sabbath day, 
And on her brow and cheek were charms 

Which fondly won all hearts away. 
The blossom fair, which love had hailed, 

Coming to earth from its own Heaven ; 
For whose bright path the wreaths of Hope 

Were gladly twined and fondly given. 

She lay within her mother's arms, 

The little child we loved so well. 
And brightly on her baby brow 

The pure baptismal waters fell : 
A seal upon the precious gift 

Of the dear child to God, whose care 
Was better, surer, safer far. 

Than that which centered 'round her there. 



IN MEMORIAM. 479 

Love, earthly love, was not enough 

To shield its idol — we would give 
Our darling to the tender care 

Of Him who died that we might live. 
To guardian arms, whose might and power 

Should keep her safe for ever more, 
And clasp her firmly when she stood 

Beside the surging water's roar. 



And thus we asked our own dear Lord 

To take her henceforth as His own, — 
To watch and guard her with the love 

Whose height and depth was never known ; 
To make her little feet to walk 

In wisdom's pleasant, peaceful way, — 
That never from His sheltered fold 

Those untried steps might sadly stray. 



We loved her fondly, but we knew 

How human and how weak we were, 
And so we asked a better love 

For her — a more protecting care. 
Like her, were those around the Throne, 

Held to the bosom of our Lord, 
Upon whose stainless brows no trace 

Or spot of sin their beauty marred. 



480 IN MEMORIAM. 

* * * * * * 

God took her gently from the arms 

That folded her in fondest love — 
The arms that offered her in faith, 

The pure and spotless household dove. 
He took her to Himself, and we 

Were silent, and in tears did bow, 
When the high seal of Heaven was placed 

Upon the placid infant brow. 

God took her ! He would not divide 

The pleasant care of her dear life ; 
He kept eternal peace for her. 

Which must not know earth's bitter strife. 
With her pure joy no grief must come ; 

With happy smiles no sighs and tears ; 
With the fair sunshine — not a trace 

Of shade throughout eternal years. 

God took her from life's tangled paths, — 

From weariness she ne'er can know, — 
He closed her eyes in gentle sleep 

Upon the fading things below. 
No toil was for that baby hand. 

No furrows for that sinless brow, 
No care or wound for the pure heart 

That knows a seraph's glory now. 



IN MEMORIAM. 481 



God took her, and from out our tears 

We hail her safe for ever more ; 
We hail her in her radiant home 

Upon the glorious Heavenly shore. 
Fold her so closely, Love Divine ! 

Our little child whose earthly days 
Were few and brief, yet long enough 

To learn thy high eternal praise. 



SI 



THE VACANT HOME. 

Inscribed to the memory of Mrs. Sarah K. Reynolds. Died January 4th, 1872. 



"For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we 
have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens." 



Like a sad spirit, silence dwells 

Where household voices echoed ^round,- 
Where childish, merry accents rang, 

Awaking many a joyful sound. 
Where life, and happiness, and hope. 

Made glad the hours that fleeted by, — 
Lighting, with sunshine and with stars, 

The glory of home's azure sky. 

At the closed portal Memory stands. 

Nor wall she yield her chosen place ; 
Her record, which she firmly clasps, 

Bears of fresh, bitter tears, the trace. 
And yet her kindly hand to me 

Unfolds each precious, priceless page, 
So filled with all that makes life blest — 

So rich in life's best heritage. 



IN MEMORIAM. 483 

Over the record back I look ; 

I reuci of love and fondest care — 
Of sweet young voices learned to lisp 

Their artless, earnest, holy prayer ; 
Of Hope's fair promise, which was kept, 

And in the future hours fulfilled ; 
Of the sweet peace, which purely down, 

Like dew of Hermon, was distilled. 



And saw I where the Reaper came 

And gathered from this home fair flowers; 
He bore them from their native earth 

To bloom amid eternal bowers. 
Though quivering lips and tearful eyes, 

A stern and fearful struggle told, — 
Yet, with a true submissive faith, 

Love viewed them in "the upper fold." 



I read of hours of deepest woe, 

When with the Boatman, stern and j):vh'. 
Beloved forms the river crossed. 

And dear feet trod the darkened vale. 
But ever o'er that home and hearth 

The star of Bethlehem brightly shone ; 
And griefs were soothed, and peace was given 

Such peace as God's beloved have known. 



484 IN MEMORIAM: 

I read of one, so saintly — meek — 

Who walked with Jesus, side by side, 
Who from all earthly stain or dross 

Seemed ever cleansed and purified. 
Of one upon whose placid brow 

The seal of God's own grace was placed, 
While revelations of his power 

Her daily thoughts and actions graced. 



I read the record of her life 

Through all its changes — joy and woe 
The same unvarying gentleness. 

Like a pure streamlet's silvery flow. 
Her brow had caught, amid life's ways, 

Already Heaven's unsullied trace, 
While Earth no passing shadow left 

Upon her gentle, j^eaceful face. 



Days came to her of keenest pain. 

While agony her spirit grieved, 
Yet borne with patience and with trust 

In Him on whom she had believed. 
Enshrined in love's most sacred ties, 

Enshrined by love's fondest care ; 
She died — as fades a melody 

Upon the sweet and summer air. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

How tenderly her quiet hands 

Were folded — with their mission don( 

Recalling many a kindly deed 

Which prayers and fondest blessings won. 
With loving thoughts those hands were given 

Unto their calm and pleasant rest, " 
By those whose life her love had known. 

Her own — her dearest and her best. 



Affection, with its ceaseless care, ' 

Pillowed the dear and precious head ; 
With tears, that fell so freely down, 

'Twas laid upon its coffin bed, 
Crowned with a saintliness which seemed 

A radiance from the Better Land, 
Or the calm glory of a face 

By angel pinions gently fanned. 



And lips she loved spake glowing words 

Above her dear, enshrouded form, — 
Words that were eloquent with truth, 

With the heart's fond emotions warm : 
A tribute to the vanished life. 

Whose harmonies were grand and high, 
Lost only in the nobler strains 

That crown her immortality. 



486 IN MEMORIAM. 

Oh, Memory ! it is sweet to keep 

The record of a life so fair ; 
I fain would read again each page, 

And linger long and fondly there : 
Keep every leaf undimmed and bright, 

Where'er her hallowed name doth rest,- 
The name which in the Book of Life 

Is written with the crowned and blest. 



And though thy vigils may be lone 

Above the threshold, where no more 
Come back the kindred household feet 

That echoed in the days of yore ; 
Yet know thou, that in mansions fair, 

Beyond Earth's partings and its tears, 
The severed ones shall meet again 

To part not through eternal years. 



Till then, stand faithfully where thou 

Such stainless records may unfold — 
Stand at the portals of that home 

Whose hours of life and death are told ! 
Though other feet may echoes wake 

Within each closed and quiet room, 
Stand thou ! to tell of vanished hours 

Whose beauty " knows no second bloom." 



DELLE MASON DO WD ALL. 



Died April 5th, 187C. 



What came to me upon the breeze, 

Laden with nature's harmonies? 

What came amid the sunshine fair, 

That crowned the earth with beauty rare ? 

A requiem tone — so sadly borne 

With the rich beauty of the morn ; 

A low and mournful tone that told 

Of living lips grown white and cold. 

Alas, alas ! for those pale lips. 
Sealed in the night of Death's eclipse; 
Their pleasant tones on earth are o'er, — 
They speak the words of cheer no more. 
Sweet were the accents, gentle friend, 
That could with such kind grace commend, 
And brighten with their loving praise 
The paths that lay through rugged ways. 



488 IN MEMORIAM. 

What came to me upon the breeze, 
Laden with richest harmonies? 
What came amid the sunshine fair, 
That brightened earth, and sky, and air? 
A requiem tone for one whose life 
Had faded in Death's bitter strife, — 
Upon whose brow and cheek was set 
The mighty seal that lingers yet. 



A requiem tone for vanished light, 
Leaving the darkness of the night ; 
For a pure spirit, whose own trace 
Beside the household hearth had place ; 
Whose gentle teachings, — whose caress, 
Mingled with pride and tenderness, 
Lingering on infant brows most fair, 
And left their faithful impress there. 



What came to me upon the breeze, 
Laden with nature's harmonies? 
What came amid the sunshine fair. 
That flooded earth with radiance rare ? 
Tones of triumph — brightly borne 
With the rich beauty of the morn ; 
Tones of glad triumph, far and near. 
Above the coffin and the bier. 



IN MEMORIAM. 489 

Lips closed on earth awake in Heaven — 
New beauty to their words are given; 
Life steals across the brow and cheek, 
And new revealings raptures speak; 
Eyes bounded by life's narrow space, 
See now the King in all His grace, 
And find their tears all wiped away 
In regions of unclouded day. 



What happiness is thine, oh, friend ! 
What peace and joy thy steps attend ! 
I see within thine hand the palm, — 
Thou wearest the crown where all is calm. 
I see thee with thy happy feet, 
Walking along the shining street. 
Safe, safe in thy eternal home. 
Where onlv brightest blessings come. 



Rest 'neath the daises, still and white ; 
Rest 'neath the sunshine's living light; 
Rest where the starlight pure and fair 
Finds thy slumbers and lingers there. 
Love's steps shall wander to thy rest, 
The turf by tender hands be prest. 
Where stilly sleeps, beyond the strife, 
The child, the mother, and the wife. 



GRACE FLETCHER DOW. 

Died December 21, 1S78. 



"There is hushed on earth 
A voice of gladness — there is veiled a face, 
Whose parting leaves a dark and silent face 
By the once joyous hearth." 

— Mrs. Hemans. 

Amid December's snow-clad hours 

A requiem tone was heard, 
Whose deepening sounds fell o'er my heart, 

And sorrow's fountain stirred. 
A requiem tone for one beloved. 

Whose blessed life was o'er, — 
Whose gentle smile and loving words 

Should come to us no more. 

Alas ! sweet friend, that from thine eye 

Death veiled the sunlight fair; 
Expression, with its glowing light, 

No longer lingers there. 
The beautiful, unheeded, blooms 

Around thy placid rest; 
Unheeded — though an oifering 

From those who love thee best. 



IN MEMORIAM. 491 



Alas! that hushed and motionless, 

Above thy quiet breast, 
Thy pale hands gently folded lie 

In their unbroken rest. 
Full many a gentle deed was theirs, 

Full many an act of love — 
The promptings of thy %oble heart, 

That thrills with joy above. 



Those silent feet that trod life's paths 

To comfort and to bless, — 
That to the mourner came with balm — 

To grief with tenderness — 
Walk in unshadowed pathways where 

Bright crystal waters flow, 
And know the rest from weariness, 

Which the redeemed shall know. 



A spell was thine of magic power, — 

The master-spell of mind, 
That stamps the image everywhere 

Thy name shall be enshrined. 
Time breaks it not, nor Lethe's wave 

May darkly o'er it roll ; 
Its harmony can never die — 

The music of the soul. 



,492 IN MEMORIAM. 

Farewell, beloved and cherished friend ! 

Each pleasant by -gone hour 
Still lingers near me as of old, 

With true and changeless power. 
Thy faith and hope, thy patient trust, 

Thy words of gentle cheer. 
Float o'er my sfpirit strangely still, 

And bring thee ever near. 



LINES. 

In memory of Jessie A. Belcher. 

When the skies of March were bending 

O'er the land and o'er the sea ; 
When we heard the gentle whisper 

Of Spring's coming in the lea ; 
When her foot was on the mountain, 

And the streamlet woke to life, — 
White and pure, like fading lily. 

Went out little Jessie's life. 



Day by day fond years had lingered 

O'er her form so loved and dear,— 
While the angels gently wooed her 

To their distant home — so near. 
And though Love kept tireless vigil 

O'er the fair and graceful child, 
Yet her cheek hnd brow grew paler, 

And her gentle words more mild. 



494 IN MEMORIAM. 

A transplanted bud from Heaven, 

She had brightened home and hearth, 
From the hour when joy and gladness 

Were awakened at her birth. 
And the sunlight shone around her, 

And sweet flowers their beauty shed, 
While a meaning, more than child-like, 

Clustered 'round the words she said. 



Home grew brighter when her footsteps 

Wandered through its hallowed bounds, 
When the echo of their coming 

Was the happiest of sounds, — 
When we caught the sunny gleaming 

Of her wealth of shining hair. 
And rejoiced to hear the music 

Of the voice that seemed so fair. 



But she comes no more to greet us 

With her tenderness and love, 
And the halls and rooms are silent, 

For we miss our household dove. 
She hath sought her native heaven. 

And her eyes are turned away 
From the land of clouds and shadows 

To the clime of glorious day. 



IN MEMORIAM. 495 

Oh ! the peace and resignation 

Of the precious, patient child, 
And the tender words of comfort, 
And the gracious acts so mild. 
"Raise me higher, mamma — raise me," 

Spake she when dark death was nigh ; 
" I am almost gone," — when glories 
Shone upon her mortal eye. 



She had seen the rapturous vision 

Of the beauty not revealed, — 
She had heard the angel music, 

To whose strains our ears are sealed, 
And she longed to be still nearer 

To the Pure and Undefiled, 
Whom she learned to love and worship, 

Though few summers o'er her smiled. 



Higher yet they raised her — higher, — 

While a glory lit her face, 
Like the beauty of the saintly 

Was the happy, blissful trace ; 
And while gazing unto Heaven, 

With a more than mortal look, 
Angel pinions waved around her. 

And the fair young spirit took. 



496 IN MEMORIAM. 

Then the little hands were folded, 

And the childish eyes were closed, 
And we smoothed the hair that gently- 
Round the marble brow reposed. 
Ah ! her pleasant voice was silent, 
, For the young and rosy lips 
Were veiled beneath the still cold shadow 
Of life's dark and dread eclipse. 



Where the sunshine loves to linger 

O'er the waving grass so green, — 
Where the first fair flowers of spring-time 

In its early hours are seen : 
There we laid her down to slumber. 

In her sweet, unbroken rest. 
With a wealth of bloom and fragrance 

O'er our darling Jessie's breast. 



But we know how bright the moments 

In her home beyond the skies, — 
Where, " upon the Hills Eternal 

Nothing fades and nothing dies." 
Where her life is pure and peaceful — 

By no pain and anguish tried ; 
Without tears and without sorrow, — 

With the Saviour! — glorified. 



IN MEMORIAM. 497 

And we know that we shall find her, 

When the dreams of life are o'er, 
By the waters of Life's river, — 

By its calm and restful shore. 
We will claim her ours forever. 

Where Death's shadows never come, 
And Life shall kjiow no parting 

In that hiy-h and glorious home. 



LINES. 



Inscribed to Mr. and Mrs. Dunlap, on the death of their infant son. 



O fair sweet blossom from God's hand, — 

A blessing fresh from yonder Heaven, 
To add new brightness to your lives 

Unto your hearts and homes was given. 
Pure was his beauty — the brown curls 

Clustered around his darling head, 
And eyes expressive seem to tell 

Of somethins: sweet the angels said. 



The passing moments crowned him still 

With added loveliness — and days. 
As they sped by, in fullness told 

Some newer charm of childish ways. 
It was a joy to catch the sound 

Of unformed words and murmurs sweet- 
To bend above his infant brow 

And think your happiness complete. 



IN MEMORIAM. 499 



Nine happy months passed quickly by, 

Still bringing hopes and visions fair, 
That thronged around his precious life, 

And left rich buds of promise there ; 
When like a lily, drooping, pale, 

He gently bowed his infant head, 
And in his young fresh beauty slept 

Upon the pillow of the dead. 



Love could not win him back to life, — 

Like sunset clouds, he passed away. 
Soaring beyond the azure sky 

To regions of unfolding day. 
So tenderly the Shepherd's hand 

Led him to pastures green and fair ; 
The folded lamb ! henceforth to be 

Encircled by His fondest care. 



Thrice happy child ! with not a tear 

To shed along the paths of life, — 
With not a shadow for thy brow. 

Never a pain, a care, or strife. 
Whose shining curls will never wear 

The trace of Time when years have fled ; 
Whose little feet, so pure and safe, 

No thorny paths shall ever tread. 



500 IN MEMORIAM. 

Sleep sweetly in thy quiet home, 

Where flowers and sunshine's golden light 
Shall crown thy rest so calm and pure, 

Folded in robes of snowy white; 
And Love shall keep her vigils there, — 

And there shall tender memories dwell, 
Of the fair child so early called. 

Whose promise many a lip shall tell. 

Oh, ye who mourn ! rejoice ! rejoice ! 

That, clasped unto the Saviour's breast. 
Your precious lamb, in perfect peace, 

Is safe from evil and unrest. 
Be glad, and know that to your arms 

His infant beauty shall be given 
Again, when your triumphant feet 

Shall tread the golden streets of Heaven, 



LINES. 



Inscribed to Mrs. George W. Morgan. 



O'er the mountain and the vale, 
Came to me a strong heart's wail, 
For a young unsullied life 
Vanished in Death's bitter strife ; 
For a sunny head at rest — 
For sealed lips so often prest — 
For white arms, whose soft caress 
Lingered ever but to bless. 

How I longed for dove-like wing, 
That I might so quickly bring 
All my heart's deep sympathy, 
Gathered up, sweet friend, for thee ; 
That I might, with gentle tread. 
Stand beside the coffin-bed, 
Where, in its unshadowed grace, 
Gleamed thy darling sleeper's face. 



502 IN MEMORIAM. 

I would whisper to thee there, 
Of his home so bright and fair — 
Of its light that never dims, 
Ceaseless as the Eternal Hymns. 
Of his placid, peaceful rest 
On our loving Saviour's breast. 
Lamb ! within the Shepherd's fold 
Bliss like thine may not be told. 



I would gently breathe to thee 
What those sealed eyes now see : 
Of the bright, angelic vision 
Gained upon the shores Elysian. 
Few their tears — and yet all shed 
E'er two happy years had fled ; 
Happiness and joy begun, 
Weariness and suffering done. 



I would look upon that brow, 
Wearing Heaven's signet now, 
But to tell thee it should wear 
Nevermore one trace of care. 
Childhood's pure and matchless grace, 
On it never may give place 
To the deep and furrowed lines 
Time upon each brow entwines. 



IN MEMORIAM. 503 



I would take within mine own, 
Little hands — like Parian stone, 
I would press each smooth soft palm, 
Folded in its rest so calm ; 
Telling thee, in this sad hour, 
Of their safety, of their power. 
Up above God's highest star. 
Where the golden harp-strings are. 



All tears would cease, and we would talk 
Of shining streets where his feet walk — 
Where they could never, never stray. 
Nor lose their blessed homeward way. 
Mother! be glad, that God in love 
Has garnered those dear feet above ; 
Be glad ! that from life's thorny track, 
So pure, so early, they turn back. 



Some time, when thou shalt turn away 
To seek thy home in radiant day, 
Those little pattering feet shall come 
To guide thee to their blessed home, 
Where, through the never-ending years, 
Unshadowed by life's hopes and fears, 
Thy lips shall praise a Father's love, 
Who early called thy household dove. 



,504 IN MEMORIAM. 

Then weep not o'er the quiet tomb, \ 
Bring there the wealth of summer's bloom 
To deck the spot where he doth lay, — < 
Thy angel, passed from earth away. 
Oh, Cherubim ! fond vigils keep ! 
A precious child has fallen asleep, — : 
A shining and beloved head 
Rests on the pillow of the dead. 



THE HOUSEHOLD DARLING. 



Inscribed to Mr. and Mrs. Coppel. 



It was not days of wasting pain 

That dimmed the light of her dear eyes, 
And cast the shadow o'er their light 

That darkly 'ronnd their beauty lies. 
Not days of pain that gently closed 
. Their snowy lids — and left their trace 
Upon the rosy lips and brow, 

And o'er her fair and childish face. 



It was not days of pale disease 

That stilled the busy little hands, 
And folded them so pure and white — 

So meet to clasp with angel hands. 
The toys her happy heart so loved, 

And numbered o'er in artless glee, 
Were scarcely dropped in eager haste 

Before death came with stern decree. 



506 IN MEMORIAM. 

It was not hoars of fading strength 

That hushed the echoes of those feet,- 
The steps that pattered gayly round 

Her home, and fell like music sweet; 
One moment rushing with delight, 

Some pleasant, happy sight to see. 
The next, they trembled on the shore 

Where swept thy waves, Eternity ! 



From joyous life to the dark hour 

When she was borne, so pale and still. 
To the dear place her smiles had blessed. 

Where naught the aching void can fill; 
'Twas but a moment — scarce had she 

Looked back with grace and merry word, 
Until a mother's loving heart 

By deepest grief and woe was stirred. 



Love in its anguish murmured, " Where, 

Oh, where were ye, blest Seraphim, 
Who keeps such tender watch and ward. 

With eyes of love that grow not dim ? 
Commissioned by our precious Lord, 

Do ye not fold in tender care 
Those whose pure spirit's nearest stand 

Unto the Throne — and radiance wear? 



IN MEMORIAM. 507 

Yet softly, gently floating down, 

Echoes a voice from Heaven — a voice 
Which bids the broken heart revive, 

And the bereaved in peace rejoice. 
It asks what bliss could e'er be found, 

Like that unto thy darling given? 
What blessedness could she attain, 

Like the pure happiness of Heaven ? 



It whispers of the pure and fair, 

Who walk with her the streets of gold, — 
Of the grand hymn of Love she hears, 

Whose glorious strains can ne'er be told. 
It tells of life, where flowers fade not, — 

Of pain and weariness all done, — 
Of peace eternal and secure, — 

Of vanquished foes, and victory won. 



It tells of a reunion blest. 

When life, with light and shade, is o'er, 
Where loving arms may clasp again 

The dear ones who have gone before ; 
Where there are no more tears to shed, 

For God shall wipe them all away, 
And change death's dark and chilling night 

To the glad light of perfect day. 



A FLOWER. 



For the coffin of little Bartlett Stevens. 



" Never a tear for the baby's cheek," 

Thus thouffht I, when sadly came to me 
The tidings that over his bright blue eye 

Death folded his cloud of mystery. 
Never a tear through all coming time ! 

For lo ! 'ere one happy year has fled, 
All trace of suffering has passed away, 

And every sorrowful tear is shed. 

Never a furrow for that pure brow, 

Time shall not mar it with pain and care ; 
Never shall years, as they come and go, 

Leave their impress of sadness there. 
Clad with the beauty that angels wear, — 

Covered with kisses from love's own lips, — 
Shrined in the sweetness of perfect bliss, 

Under the stillness of life's eclipse. 



IN MEMORIAM. 609 

Never a burden for those clear hands ! 

Those little hands, with their smooth soft palm, 
Folded in beauty so pure and white, — 

Folded in rest so deep and calm. 
Tenderly press them within your own, 

Then give them to God and His loving care, 
Beyond the glory of shining stars, — 

Beyond the azure so bright and fair. 



Never in thorny and doubtful paths. 

Oh, precious feet, shall ye ever stray, — 
Losing, perchance, in some lone, dark night, 

The blessed light of your homeward way; 
Sheltered forever in pastures green. 

Where life's glad waters forever flow, 
Only the tender and guarding care 

Of the Shepherd's watchful love to know. 



Fallen asleep! while the summer's voice 

Is whispering gently its sad farewell, 
The precious blossom hath passed away 

With the buds and flowers — and it is well. 
For he shall wake in the radiant land. 

Whose bloom and beauty shall never fade, — 
Where the seal eternal of Heaven's own power 

On the glory of his young life is laid. 



FRED W. SLOAN. 

Died June 25, 1878. 



' Life was so fair a thing to him 

We wept and pleaded for its stay; 
Our wish was granted us, for lo! 
He hath eternal life to-day.'' 



Where the bright waters gleam in light, 

And flow in majesty along; 
When the calm stars in glory shone, 

A silvery and unnumbered throng ; 
His eyes were gently kissed to sleep 

Beneath the murmurs of the wave, 
Far, far from love's protecting hand, 

So powerless in its might to save. 

Oh, bending skies! oh, silent hours! 

Why told ye not of danger near? 
Why sent you not, mysterious night, 

Your aid to one so loved and dear? 
Sounding across the billows dark. 

Why echoed not the requiem tone 
O'er the young life that faded out 

Amid the depths, so hushed and lone ? 



IN MEMORIAM. 611 

Be still, O heart ! for God was there, 

And angels gently bore him home 
To their own land of peace and love, 

Where life's unrest may never come. 
He passed away from earth to Heaven, 

As Moses on far Nebo's height. 
And when his mortal sight grew dim, 

There beamed for him a morn of light. 



He knew no weary days of pain, 

No traces sad of dull decay ; 
The pallid lips, and brow, and cheek. 

Left not their clouds o'er his bright way. 
In the fair freshness of his youth. 

When hope entwined his path with flowers, 
When life was golden with delight, 

He passed to the eternal hours. 



Sweet be thy rest, oh, joyous heart ! 

So glad with dreams of coming time. 
So filled with manly high resolves, 

And aims for truth and faith sublime. 
Affection's hand had not the power 

To shield thee from the mighty foe. 
Who conquers with resistless strength 

All that we fondly love below. 



512 IN MEMORIAM. 

Soft be thy slumbers — eyes now sealed 

In silence deep to wake no more, 
Though the fair sunshine o'er thee falls, 

And loving hearts your light deplore. 
Fragrance and beauty call not back 

The glances of each vanished hour, 
While gazing on the bloom of earth. 

And kindling with its gracious power. 



Oh, loved and lost! thy kindly voice 

Shall come to greet us never more — 
The pressure of thy clasping hand, 

No coming moments shall restore ; 
Yet memory keeps thy deeds of love, 

And generous acts of tenderness, — 
The gracious ministry of life, 

Which comes to strengthen and to bless. 



Through coming years his welcome steps 

Will stand not at home's threshold more, 
Nor come with wonted pleasant sound 

To greet us at the open door. 
One summer day his happy feet 

Were shrined beneath the coffin's lid ; 
With tears we saw them borne away, 

Forever from our vision hid. 



IN MEMORIAM. 513 

Yet he is crowned with life anew 

Beyond the glory of the skies, 
Where gently falls the peace of Heaven, 

" Where nothing fades, and nothing dies." 
Where clouds and shadows may not come, 

To mark with change his youthful face, 
And Death's chill hand may not again 

Leave there a pale and blighting trace. 

Happy, thrice happy, friend beloved ! 

Art thou — for God has called thee home; 
There are no tears for thee to shed, 

No sorrows to thy pathway come. 
Happy, thrice happy, thou whose life, 

In undimmed brightness passed away, — 
Fading as fades the stars at morn, 

Into the radiant light of day. 



S3 



LITTLE MAY TYNG. 



Who fell asleep October 3rd, 1878. Inscribed to those who love her. 



When the winds of October 

Swept over the land, 
And the banners of Autumn 

Were lofty and grand ; 
When the leaf floated by 

As a bird on the wing, 
Death kissed the pure eyelids 

Of Little May Tyng. 



He calmed every sorrow, 

And soothed every pain ; 
He touched cheek and brow 

With new beauty again. 
Her hair caught a gleam 

Of the seraphim's wing-^ 
A promise of Heaven 

To Little May Tyng. 



IN MEMORIAM. 616 

As the splendor of sunset 

Fades fur in the West, — 
As the white waves of Ocean 

Sink calmly to rest, — 
As a vision of rapture, 

Wiiich glory doth bring, 
So vanished the fair life 

Of Little May Tyng. 



God took her forever, 

Our sweet summer child ; 
She passed through the valley 

With Thee — Undefiled! 
So trusting, so fondly 

To Thee did she cline:, — 
Thou wert the sure refuge 

Of Little May Tyng. 



Where graceful steps echoed 

In gladness around, 
Like strains of sweet music 

Their pattering sound ; 
Where childish thoughts spoken. 

Rare comfort did bring, 
Dwells silence and sorrow 

For Little May Tyng. 



516 IN MEMORIAM. 

The dear lips are quiet, — 

The busy hands still, — 
The graces of childhood 

Foud hearts no more fill. 
The sweet winsome blossom. 

As fair as the spring, 
Lies pale in its beauty — 

Our Little May Tyng. 



Such prayers — fondest prayers - 

As ascended on high ! 
Such tears of deep anguish 

As long days went hy ! 
Around the White Throne 

Stricken spirits did cling 
For the dear, lengthened life 

Of Little May Tyng. 



Unheeding, the Shepherd 

Who carried above. 
To green, sunny pastures. 

The child of our love, — 
Where bright sparkling waters 

New radiance shall bring 
To greet the glad vision 

Of Little May Tyng. 



IN MEMORIAM. 517 

No tears for our darling ; 

No thorns for her feet ; 
No toil for her hands — 

Her peace all complete. 
Years come and they vanish, 

But never can bring 
A sigh or a sorrow 

To Little May Tyng. 

Enfold her, dear Saviour, 

In loving embrace, 
And clothe her sweet spirit 

With infinite grace! 
Oh, hands that were wounded, 

Rich mercies to bring, 
With thy pure affection 

Bless Little May Tyng. 



Sleep softly, my darling. 

The sunshine shall come, 
With glory and beauty. 

Around thy low home ; 
And the fair days of summer 

Their fragrance shall bring, 
To brighten the slumbers 

Of Little May Tyng. 



518 . IN MEMORIAM. 

Sleep softly, my darling, 

The spring shall draw nigh, 
Yet wake no response 

As the bright hours go by. 
The violet in vain 

-Shall its sweet censor swing, 
. While the bi^ds and the flowers 

Greet Little May Tyng. 



Sleep softly, my darling, 

The pure snow will fall, 
And cover thy rest 

With its beautiful pall ; 
It will sweep o'er thy home 

Like an angel's white wing, 
And hallow the slumber 

Of Little May Tyng. 



Sleep softly, my darling. 

Beneath the stars' light, 
W^here the moonlight shall glance 

In the lone solemn night. 
Sleep sweetly, — for hath not 

The dear Lord and King 
Gathered home with his jewels 

Our Little May Tyng? 



